


Second Generation

by planningconquest



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Casual Murder, Con Artists, Conspiracy, F/M, Gen, Hondo's Mother, Mentions of Excessive Drinking, Mentions of Slavery, Mindfuck, Missing Persons, Violence, kidnapping (ish), loss of limb, mentions of child abuse, mentions of domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 16:00:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 77,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8167744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planningconquest/pseuds/planningconquest
Summary: When the Hero With No Fear dies, that galaxy would never be the same. From a Corellian street rat to the Force itself, history will be changed forever.





	1. This happened

“What is this?” 

The pain that had been Anakin’s constant companion for three days was broken for the first time since he’d been left alone by the worst possible voice. 

“Hondo?” Weakly, he peeled open his eyes, forcing himself to focus on the hazy figure leaning over him. 

“Anakin Skywalker!” The booming voice made him wince, pulling away from the noise as best he could despite the shackles. “Ah, I see you’re in pain. I will not speak as loud, yes?”

“Yes.”

“I wonder.” He force sense was dulled but he could sense more people around. Pirates, he presumed. “What are you doing here? In the middle of this hole? Eh? The net says you want AWOL.”

“I.” He licked his lips, trying to focus his eyes on the pirate leaning over him. “Get me, out…..please.”

“Ah, you see. You think I am here to rescue you. Obviously I came to rob the facility but I guess I can make away with you too. A pretty prize for all the trouble I will get into with dear old Mama.”

“What?” He could feel someone’s hand around his ankles and wrists and then around the cuff on his left thigh. “Hondo.”

“HA!” Anakin hissed and Hondo gave a loud whisper. “I am surprised, Skywalker. You look terrible.”

“Yeah.” He shivered when a hand, soft and wrinkled pressed on his forehead. “Hard to be the best when you’ve been…..in prison.”

“Ah, my friend. I do not know much about humans but I know they are not supposed to have this high a temperature.” 

“No.” He squeezed his eyes shut, shivering. With his single working hand he waved away the grip on his head. 

“I wonder, my friend, if you know that this is not a prison.”

“Was captured,” he protested, “Grevious. I know…….” His breath was short but he continued, “POW.”

“Ah…no. I know seppie strongholds. This is no seppie stronghold.” Hondo’s voice sharpened, “And we cannot stay.” Anakin groaned as he was hoisted from the metal bed. His wounds protested, burnt skin pulling against bleeding flesh. He shrieked as the molding cup around his knee was bumped against the door. “Sorry, my friend.” The hand patted his cheek again. Anakin allowed his head to drop backward onto the shoulder of the pirate carrying him. Vaguely he could make out the form of a twi’lek. 

“Where are we going?” Anakin didn’t dare shift in the grip of his bearers least the drop him. He couldn’t see Hondo taking point with a grim expression and blasters in each hand. “What?”

“The Republic thinks you’ve gone AWOL because General Grevious was killed two days ago.” The twi’lek said, “This place ain’t a seppie prison. It’s real spooky.”

“The Sith,” Anakin mumbled, “He was here. He….he did this….to me.” 

“The Sith….those guys are the opposite of the Jedi?”

“Hmmm.” The former slave heard tell-tale signs of a ship getting primed for take-off. “He…wants me. To…hurt me. I.”

“Dooku? This does not seem like Dooku.” Hondo’s voice echoed back to him. 

“No….his….master.” His chest ached. “His lord.” Anakin was fading face, dropping again toward unconsciousness even as the four sentient carrying him pulled him aboard the ship and into a cramped med-bay. 

Hondo stared at the limp, ragged form of the young Jedi, grimacing. 

“Boss, what do you want to do?”

“It would be profitable to return him to the Jedi,” Hondo mused, “And smart but.” 

“But?” 

“But he is not safe with them…I can feel it! We must take him to the Black.”

“The Boss Lady ain’t goin’ to like it.”

“I know! But! We know that Dooku did not do this and we know that he could have been a seppie prisoner so what does this all mean?” 

“He’s…stupid?”

“No!” Hondo smacked the other Weequay, “It means that he….is a pirate now!” 

“A Jedi Pirate?”

“We already have one so why not two?”  
“Because he is Anakin Skywalker. You’ve ransomed him once so why not twice.”

“Because,” Hondo felt the ship rise into the fiery atmosphere of the planet. Holding his hands behind his back he mused, “Someone wants to hurt him! Which means that this person is not a public figure which means that this person has manipulated the death of General Grevious for their own gain of taking Skywalker.”

“Which means?”

“Which means Mama will want to know. Besides,” he clapped his hands on the other pirates back, “He is very entertaining when he is awake. Now, did you all set the charges?”

“Yeah, we did.” Hondo took the tiny controller and nodded.

“Very well! Now,” the red button clicked down and somewhere beneath them a building began to slid into a river of lava as it’s foundations were blown apart by well place explosives. “That is taken care of we must really get going! I cannot wait to show Mama my young Jedi friend.”

#$#$#$

“Gone?” Darth Sidious stared at the holographic form of his agent. “Explain this.”

“Master,” the form didn’t move from their kneeling position, “The facility was gone when I arrived on planet as you ordered. From my forensic scouting of the remains of the building foundations it shows that the planet suffered intense seismic activity. The quake appears to have destablized the building enough to drop it into the river below. There remains very little of the facility.” 

“I see.” Sidious leaned back in his chair. “You know who was there, my Hand?”

“Yes, master. Anakin Skywalker.”

“Anakin Skywalker is dead.” The boy’s presence had been dimmed since the force inhibitors had been pumped into his system but now it was gone. He hadn’t even felt it. The force did not shake, scream or even to acknowledge the death of the Chosen One. Losing Anakin Skywalker should have meant that the galaxy felt the backlash. 

The Chosen One’s force presence had simply slipped away, becoming one with the Force in the most anti-climactic manner. It was disappointing. 

“This is….disappointing.” His plans were derailed. He had hardly even begun breaking the boy. There was no triumphant Vader to destroy the Jedi if Skywalker was dead. “What of the satellite about the planet?”

“They showed nothing, master. No ships entering or leaving the planet atmosphere.” 

“Hmm.” The Jedi were already searching frantically for Skywalker and the Holo News had run rampant with the story of Skywalker’s abandonment of the Republic. “Agent, I want the Separatists to be guilty of this crime. Plant the evidence needed to ensure that Kenobi believes that Dooku is responsible for the death of Skywalker. Create the conspiracy.” 

“Yes, my master.”

The call cut short and Sidious found a waiting call from the Jedi Council. It was time to play them for the fools they were.

#$#$#$3

The council was silent as they were forced to face the reality of the situation. 

“Sense him, I cannot.” Yoda said, chewing on his gimmer stick. “Into the force, it seems he has passed.”

“Kenobi reports that there is no sign of Anakin on Tatooine or anywhere else he’s been.” Windu said, “No one’s seen Skywalker for two weeks now.”

“Dead, he is.” Yoda repeated.

“You think we would have felt it,” Mundi said, “That we would notice a light like Anakin going out.”

“We did not notice when Caleb died,” Billabla pointed out, “There was nothing until the report came back that his ship was demolished.”

“That is true.” Mace Windu rubbed his head, sighing. “This isn’t going to be good for public relations. The press is already salivating at catching us failing. Losing Skywalker is already damaging morale among the clones. The Chancellor is demanding updates and none of our investigative teams are getting anywhere. We have no idea where he went, who he was with or anything. As far as we can tell Skywalker dropped off the grid and then died suddenly. There’s nothing to go on. Nothing to build on and we’re left in the dust here.”

“What will we do about Anakin’s disappearance?”

“List him as Killed In Action, assign Tano to a new master and get on with this war.” Windu sighed, “It’s the best plan for now. Anakin Skywalker is dead.”

#$#$#

Anakin woke up. He was honestly surprised, when he’d passed out in a group of pilot he did put much hope on waking up again. As it stood, he was awake and he was alive and he felt significantly better than he had before. 

“Hondo?” Talking wasn’t as much trouble as it had been but his mouth still hurt, his teeth tender and lose in their sockets. 

“I’m not Uncle Hondo.” Anakin raised his head to find himself staring at the plump, recognizable face of Caleb Dume. “Hi.”

“Dume?” He rasped, struggling to sit up. “What? Are you a prisoner? Are you?”

“I’m okay, Mr. Skywalker,” Caleb said gently, picking up a clear class of water. “I’m not dead, if that’s what you’re wondering and nor are you. I just live here.”

“Where’s here?” A window to his left didn’t show much other than the leafy foliage of a tree. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the Black, Mr. Skywalker.” Caleb took the empty glass and passed a granola bar. “That’s what this planets called. It keeps a lot of people safe and you were brought here by.”

“Hondo Ohnaka. I remember that part but…why would I get brought here? I’m a general and I’m supposed to.” He tried to stand, swaying from side to side as he stabilized himself on his remaining foot. After moment he realized his prosthetic was gone. “What?” Anakin stumbled back onto bed, tears suddenly misting over his eyes. “Where’s my arm?”

“They took it off when you got here. Well,” A shifty look came over the boy’s face, “That’s what they told me. I was in bed….asleep….under the blankets.”

“Right?” Despite the alarming situation Anakin still smiled at the former-padawan. “Bed? Is that new youngling code for ‘spying on the adults’?”

“Shh,” Caleb leaned into Anakin’s space, “You can’t let anyone know. I’ll be in big trouble.” Anakin’s smile vanished. 

“Are you in trouble, Dume? What are you doing here? Do you need help?”

“I’ll get grounded and if she’s cranky she sticks me in time out.” Caleb grumbled, pushing his toes against the wooden floorboards. “I don’t like time out.”

“Who is she?”

“I call her Grandma but everyone else calls her Boss…she’s the one who runs the Black. Sorta retired but not really and she’s the one let you here. No one get on or off the Black without her permission.”

“Alright then.” Anakin rubbed his forehead, forcibly not looking at the empty space where his foot should have been. “How do I? I need to get up.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mr. Skywalker. The doctor said you really need to stay down because you got tortured pretty bad.”

“I know, Caleb.” By some blessing he couldn’t remember much of his incarceration. “But I really need to.”

“No, really.” There was a frightened glimmer Dume’s eyes that hadn’t been there before. “You should sit down. I can feel your pain.”

“But.”

“I promise that you’re safe. Grandma will make sure of it.” 

“Caleb.”

“Please, Mr. Skywalker. You need to sleep some and then eat but if you get up your going to get hurt more.”

“I’m not…is anyone going to talk to me?” 

“Eventually, I guess.” Anakin settled back against the pillows, blearily staring at the boy. “But you’re still pretty shaken up.” Caleb pulled a thin sheet over Anakin’s bare chest, tucking it securely around his collar. “The meds weren’t supposed to wear off but you’ll be okay when you wake up again.”

“I gotta get back.” Anakin muttered, not bothering to fight the wave of sleep that pulled him down. “They need me. Padme…she needs me.”

Caleb’s face was the last thing he saw before he passed out again, this time peacefully. He felt rather than saw the tiny kiss the boy pressed on his forehead as if echoing a motion he’d seen before.


	2. Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those left behind begin to deal with the fallout of Anakin's 'death'.

The inhabitant of 500 Republica had not moved from the spot she had initially dropped to since she heard the news. An unmoving figure on her couch, Padme Amidala had not yet begun processing Anakin’s death. 

The news had come hours ago, delivered by an unfeeling newscaster who had given a total of 20 seconds to reporting the assassination of Anakin Skywalker’s death before moving on the continued deregulation of the banks. Twenty seconds was all they afforded the Hero With No Fear. Padme stared, unblinking, at the holo device where the latest poll numbers showed the approval of the war rising dramatically before leveling off. She sighed and then jerked about when the chime came to life. 

Padme drew her robe closer, moving toward the door. She’d forgotten that she had sent most of her staff away; dismissing her handmaidens for the evening and the security had been banished to the hallway. 

“Hello.” Pulling on her senatorial mask, Padme forced herself to face the person waiting beyond the door. 

“Hello, Senator Amidala.” Obi Wan Kenobi looked terrible. His eyes were shadowed and hollow, face slack, and robes rumpled. Beside him Ahsoka Tano looked to be clinging to the last of her Jedi serenity with the determined desperation of a hiker holding onto a crumbling cliff face. Her robe seemed oversized and uncomfortable and she only barely glanced at Padme. 

“Master Kenobi,” her voice was steady. “What brings you here this evening?”

“I’m sure you heard, Senator.” Kenobi closed his eyes as he forced the words out, “Of Anakin’s death.”

“I did.” It hurt more than she could have imagined hearing it from Obi Wan. He looked so drawn and beaten. “You have my condolences, Master Kenobi. I know you two were close.” 

“Attachments are not the way of the Jedi,” Kenobi said mechanically, missing Ahsoka’s burning expression as she looked toward the floor. “I am here because I know you an Anakin were friends” 

“He did liberate my planet from the Trade Federation,” Choosing that moment to ignore Obi Wan’s contribution in fit a cruel fury. “We every reason to be friends.” 

“Of course,” Obi Wan sagged a bit and stepped to the side. R2-D2 was waiting behind him. For the first time since she had scrubbed plasma residue off him the droid looked lifeless. He was waiting the proper distance behind a master, photo receptor low and silent. That perhaps, more than Obi Wans own lifeless behavior, frightened her. Artoo was not subservient, he moved beside his friends and he was always offering input. “I am here to deliver your droid back to you. I know you gave it to Anakin but now that he is…gone. We must find a suitable owner for him.”

“I offered,” Ahsoka grumbled, “I could take care of Artoo.”

“Hush,” Kenobi sushed her, “As I was saying, would you please take R2-D2?”

“Of course.” She ought to have inherited all of Anakin’s possession she knew were cluttering up his temple quarters. Since no one knew of their marriage it was more likely it was all going to be thrown into storage. “Is there anything else?” 

“No, Senator.” Obi Wan bowed, a reluctant Ahsoka followed a moment later. 

“Thank you, Master Kenobi, Ahsoka.” 

“Have a pleasant evening, Senator.” 

“Master,” With a hand on Artoo’s dome she shouted as a new thought struck. “Kenobi, I have, in the light of Knight Skywalker’s death….received several threats. I could use some protection tonight and perhaps tomorrow when I go to the Senate.”

“Threats?” Kenobi paused, confused. “Our intelligence did not receive any notifications.” 

I’m not surprised, she thought but smiled wanly. “They were smarter this time. The threats were delivered directly to my data pad.” 

“I see.” Kenobi’s eyes would not meet her, instead he stared at the wall. “Perhaps I could have someone sent.” 

“I’m sure Padawan Ahsoka would manage just fine, Master Kenobi,” she charmed him with a smile. “She had provided such protection for me before.”

“Of course, Senator,” Kenobi seemed too tired to argue much and bowed instead. “Padawan Tano. Cooperate with the Senator’s security. I’ll see you at the Temple tomorrow evening.”

“Yes, Master.” Ahsoka bowed at Kenobi abruptly left them both and vanished into the turbo lift. Left alone with Anakin’s padawan Padme stepped out of the way and ushered the suddenly dropping togruta into her suite. 

She didn’t stop to wish Kenobi a fruitful journey; instead, she waited until the turbolift door closed and yanked Ahoska into a spine crushing hug. 

“Padme,” Ahoska’s voice warbled as she was escorted to a couch, Artoo trailing behind miserably. “Padme, they…they say that Anakin.” Her breath hitched, Padme felt tears burn in her eyes as she pated Ahsoka tenderly on the back of her head. “Anakin’s gone!” 

“I’ve got you,” Padme’s voice crackled and she felt Ahoska bury her face into her shoulder, sobbing. “Shhh. I’ve got you. You’re with me, Snips. I’ve got you.” Ahsoka cried furiously, probably ruining her robe but Padme was beyond caring. She looked down when a mournful beeping reached her ear. Artoo was leaning against her leg, an appendage extended and patting her leg. “You can come here too, Artoo.” She hiccupped, “Come on.” 

It was hours until Ahsoka calmed down enough to be understandable. When she had finally cried out all her tears, exhausting herself, Ahsoka hardly had enough energy to down the cup of tea Padme offered her. Padme lead her to one of the empty rooms (they had been thinking of turning into a nursery when the war was over) and tucked an exhausted Ahsoka into the bed.

“Artoo,” she knelt next to the droid, a hand on him dome, “Could you please watch over Ahsoka? I know you’ll want to be with her right now.” Artoo beeped an affirmative and took a protective stance at the side of the bed where Ahsoka’s hand was falling over the side. Very carefully with his metal appendage he pushed it back under the blanket. Ahsoka continued to sleep when Padme left the room. 

#$#$#

Had his rooms always been this bare? Had they always seemed this lifeless? Obi Wan settled onto his meditation chair with a groan. His hands felt numb, prickling with needles and pins when he folded them properly over his knees. 

With Anakin close by it seemed like his rooms were brighter, more alive, with something happening almost every moment of the day. Even when he had been the boy’s reluctant Master, Anakin had brightened every corner with his presence. 

Obi Wan buried his head into his hands, shaking. He hadn’t been with Anakin when Grevious had been captured. No one had. Anakin had been returning from a failed invasion that had lasted eight weeks from deadlock with the newest High General. He’d been called back the High Chancellor to explain his failure when Grevious had apparently intercepted his transport. 

Before that invasion Anakin had never failed, he had never been forced off a world. The new High General was ruthless, dangerous and had, in the end, drop kicked Anakin off the planet. Two whole divisions of Clones had been captured and the price tag attached to Anakin’s failure was ranging in the low billions. 

Already the High General had taken back the entire system and the fleet was poised to crush the new Jedi fleet that had been deployed yesterday. 

The disaster and Anakin’s death spelled dipping morale and low enthusiasm. Initiates and padawans alike had been devastated by Anakin’s death. Obi Wan had seen more than one Master reprimanding them for their attachment to the Knight. All of the 501st seemed to be in a state of numb shock, unable and unwilling to accept that Anakin was dead. 

He threw a net into the force, calling for his old Padawan, begging him to return and answer. There was nothing. Desperately Obi Wan cast the net again and again and again until he passed out on his mediation chair. 

#$#$#$#

“Master, I have imprisoned High General Villa as you commanded but, if I may be so bold, I wonder why you have commanded me thus.”

“Villa’s victory against Skywalker led to his demise.” Sidious answered. “She must not be allowed to continue.”

“Master…General Villa did as no other have been able to accomplish. She defeated Anakin Skywalker.”

“Which is precisely why she must die,” Sidious settled into his chair, watched the hologram of Dooku carefully. “Do you question my authority, Apprentice?”

“Forgive me, master. General Villa’s approval ratings have skyrocketed since her victory and since she had succeeded in retaking the entire Linhah system.” 

“I am well aware of her successes, apprentice but this insult to me cannot go unpunished. I do not wish to have some...twi’lek filth succeeding any further than she already has.”

“Master,” Dooku’s wariness was delicious and amusing. “I myself was unaware that Grevious had succeeded in capturing Anakin Skywalker. It wasn’t until the release of the news on the Republic holo net did I learn that he had even been in the same system as Skywalker.”

“Tomorrow,” Sidious said, ignoring the unasked question, “I will be explaining to the Senate and the galaxy that young Skywalker’s death was a result of your imprisonment and torture of him.” He was watching the traffic lanes in the sky so he didn’t see the frown nor the unhappy set to Dooku’s mouth. “I want you to move the 10th Fleet to Ryloth.” 

“The 10th Fleet is still being repaired. It will not be battle ready for several months.” 

“I am well-aware the state of the 10th Fleet.” Sidious snarled, “You will send Wat Tambor to face Mace Windu.” 

“Wat Tambor will lose both Ryltoh and the 10th Fleet,” Dooku exclaimed, “He is dangerous enough to the civilian population as it is. We have only just opened negotiations with Cham Syndulla.”

“You will do as you are commanded! I do not wish for the Confederacy to hold Ryloth or the system.”

“Master.”

“Do as I command, apprentice. I have no need for a questioning fool.” 

“Yes, master.” Dooku forced himself to look down. “But executing Villa will be difficult. She has public favor.” 

“I do not.” 

“I know you wish her dead, Master.” Dooku didn’t dare look up, “However, I believe that she could easily be defeated by Mace Windu when he arrives to Ryloth. She leads from the front, the same as Windu. If he wishes to take Ryloth back then he will need to kill her to succeed. Her death at the hands of the Jedi would have far reaching consequences.”

“Very well, give the twi’lek a….honorable,” he drew the word out, mocking, “death.”

“As you command,” Yan Dooku bowed a final time before disconnecting the call. 

Dooku, alone in his study, glowered at the far wall. His allegiance to the Sith was straining. He had had nothing to do with Skywalker’s death. To deliberately cripple the Confederacy with foolish Generals and idiotic senators was not what he wanted. 

What was his master’s obsession with Skywalker anyway? He knew the boy was a powerhouse of the force but since his death the Sith master had been beside himself with fury. Already his rage had ended the lives of several dozen of their agents and spies within the Republic and the Confederacy. The bloody mess had sent ripples through the underworld and which spelled trouble for Dooku. 

Why would he punish a promising general for her success? Xenophobia aside it was reckless to dispose of someone so useful. Clearly his end game had been set back by Skywalker’s death but that depended on what the endgame was. 

Musing, Dooku found himself standing outside the cell holding the High General in questions. She was not a young person anymore, her skin was scarred, pitted, and burnt, the burnished gold criss-crossed with white scars that were unsettling to look at for any length of time. Her mouth was set into a hard line that only talking every changed and her eyes were a deep amber that would have been Sith on a force user. Her lekku were tattooed with deep blue symbols he and his team of code breakers couldn’t understand. There was a deep rage in her soul that was tampered to a fine edge with practicality, genius, and military cunning. He knew little about her but what he did know was that she had a bone to pick with the Republic and the Jedi. 

“I was wondering if you would show up.” He watched the twi’lek as she tossed her water cup into the air. 

“You have been given a new assignment,” he relayed, “On Ryloth, Mace Windu will be there in less than a week.”

“Ah, you’re attempting to throw me onto the blade.” He took a step back when the cold eyes turned to him. Villa rose to her feet and when she reached the door, leaned against it. Her long fingers wrapped around the bars while she sneered at him. “Ryloth is not my homewold,” her sharp teeth gleamed in the dull light of the prison cell. “I owe no allegiance to it or to its people.”

“The 10th Fleet will be your detachment. I want you to defend Ryloth from Windu. Do not allow him to take the planet.” 

Villa tilted her head to the side, her long lekku swinging near her thighs as her clothes made of soft rustling noise. She tended to prefer the truly ancient styles of coat and heavy combat boots that he had seen crush bones and weapons alike. 

“I hope,” she rasped, “That whatever games you are playing succeed for if I find myself executed from a Republic trial then there will be no force in this galaxy that will prevent me from ripping you apart, limb from limb.”

The cell door buzzed open and she stepped out. Dooku leaned away when her smile displayed her sharp canines.

“Send me to my patch work fleet, Count.” 

#$##@#@#@

The senate rotunda was in chaos. Senators were shouting over on another, a few physical fights had broken out. Padme had had her security seal off their pod, frightened someone would attempt to take a swing at her as well. Ahsoka was slouched in the only chair, watching the spectacle that had become the Republic Senate with hollow eyes. 

“This is madness.” She whispered to Jar Jar. The Gungan nodded eagerly.

“ ‘s bombad. Messa missn’ little Ani.”

“I know, Jar Jar.” Last night’s catharsis and grieving had only been the first step. Ahsoka was still lifeless and miserable but still respond when spoken to. His little togruta had woken up miserable and with a force head ache the size of a moon. “We need to see what sort of damage his death is going to do to the war effort. 

“Senators, Senators! Order. Order in the Senate!” Chancellor Palpatine raised his arms, “Please, my friends. Bring the senate to order.” Eventually it was quiet enough for the man to continue speaking. “We have all heard the distressing news that Knight Skywalker perished. I come with further intelligence.” Padme focused on the figures in his pod and found herself frowning when she recognized the figures of Mace Windu and Yoda. “It has been discovered the Count Dooku, Separatist leader and former Jedi,” The two in his pod winced. “Was personally involved in his death, at his command Knight Skywalker was executed via beheading.” Padme gasped, her hands going to her mouth. Behind her, Ahsoka shot to her feet. “We must not fall to pieces now. We know that Dooku and his ilk will win the war if we splinter into bitter factions.” 

Padme ignored him. She was too busy seizing Ahoska’s shoulder and hissing for her to stop.

“Ahsoka,” she hissed, pulling at her young friend. “Stop, stop. You can’t go charging after Dooku for revenge. It will be disastrous.” 

“What will we do then? He killed Skyguy! He has to pay for it. I’m not going to sit around and do nothing.”

“Ahsoka.” She pulled the togruta into her gown, hiding her in the deep folds from the prying eyes of the other senator. “Please, listen to me. I know you’re angry and upset but trust me when I say this, Dooku will pay for his crime but we can’t do it here and we can’t do it now.”

“Padme,” Ahoska turned toward her, eyes wide and miserable, “He can’t just get away with this. He killed my friend.”

“Ahsoka.” She hugged her carefully. “I know. I know he did.” Could she even till Ahoska that she and Anakin had been married? Should she tell the girl? 

“I’d never had,” the padawan looked younger and smaller than she ever had. “A family before and you guys….you were my family. I loved him and you and… Skyguy, he was,” Ahoska seemed unwilling to speak further but Padme knew what she was trying to say. 

“Padawan Tano.” Ice ran through her veins and both women started. Obi Wan Kenobi stood at the entrance to the pod, his robe pulled over completely to hide his expression. “It is time to go.” Padme could feel Ahsoka’s fingers dig into her back as the togruta stiffened. She knew Ahsoka had been caught saying something blasphemous to the Jedi code and Padme knew what would happen.

She would never see Ahoska again. The togruta would be forbidden to see her again for fear of attachment. Padme’s grip on Ahoska tightened as her mouth formed wordless protests.

“Obi Wan.”

“It is time to go, Ahsoka.” Kenobi said, harsher this time. 

“Obi Wan.” Padme managed again but could not speak further when Ahoska unwillingly detached herself from the senator. “Don’t do this.” She whispered, arms still outstretched as the man grabbed Ahoska’s shoulder and escorted her away. 

“Padme.” Ahsoka’s bright blue eyes widened as she was pushed out of view. “Padme!” 

Her husband and….Padme drew her arms back to her chest, eyes blurring with tears; and her daughter. She settled into the seat of her senate pod and stared woodenly out at the rioting senate. She knew that her security and handmaidens had witnessed the scene and they would help her but…..Padme swallowed down the lump in her throat and kept her grief locked away lest the opposing senators saw. 

#$#$#$#$

“General Wat Tambor will be leading the 12th Fleet to Ryloth.” Master Windu and Yoda watched the stressed chancellor with a critical eye. “With Wat Tambor acting at the Separatist representative then surely the planet is doomed.”

“Wat Tambor is dangerous to himself and others. I believe his evil could be disastrous for the twi’leks. If he has the 12th Fleet then surely the battle will be one of attrition.”

“My informants tell me that he is well-supplied with several divisions of droids holding the surface with legions of vultures in the air.”

“I understand, Chancellor.” Beyond them the traffic lanes of the planet were little more than blurs. 

“You must take the full force of your fleet if you are to succeed.” Palpatine urged, leaned forward with a concerned expression. “Tambor is known to use the civilian population as shields and slave labor.” 

“Concerning this is,” Yoda mused, “In grave danger, Ryloth is.” 

“When you go, take Senator Taa with you. He will restore the order to the planet and take over as planetary governor to ensure that his people can survive as one through his ordeal.” 

“Indeed. Wise this is.”

“Be careful, Master Windu. You must be prepared to bring the full brunt of your skill against the Separatists. We must avenge Anakin Skywalker.” 

“Vengeance is not of the Jedi way,” Windu said, standing. “But I will defeat them and take Ryloth back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're confused that's fine.


	3. Waking Up Sucks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin Wakes up and Hondo talks to the boss. Also, a bad nightmare in this one and mentions of slavery. Also, a bitchy medic.

Distant screaming. Indistinct words that were hurled into the sky and at the gods with the fury of a supernova. Somewhere a bomb exploded, sending spots of white armor flying through the air along with piles of soft dirt. More screaming. Ships flying overhead, their wings trialing smoke and fire through the burning atmosphere. A bomb across the road taking out a tank, the cries of troopers burning alive in a closed space. A hundred sorts of pains that raked through Anakin as he fumbled to move from prone position on the ground, keeping a blank expression tilted toward the distant horizon. 

His ears rang. He could only hear screaming and the indistinct explosions of artillery but he couldn’t move. Anakin was slumped against the broken husk of a speeder; Rex slumped in a lifeless pile against his boots while Ahsoka bled in the dirt a distance away. 

“Stop.” Anakin breathed. “Please, stop this.” 

“It’s too late, boy.” The Sith was grabbing his face, hauling him upward. Sickly yellow eyes peered at him out of an ancient face. “You’re lost. You’re gone to the darkness.”

“No. Stop!” Nails dug into his skin.

“Why? You were born for this pain, Skywalker. You were born to be what you always were. A slave! You touched the stars and it burned you the same way your slavery did. Boy, there is nothing for you.” 

“Get off!” Anakin struggled against the too-strong grip, tears leaking from his eyes. “GET OFF!”

“YOU ARE MINE! YOU WILL ALWAYS BE MINE! IT WILL BE YOUR FATE!” 

“GET OFF!” Anakin, ripping himself out of the grip and throwing himself back to find himself smacking against the overstuff pillows on a bed. “What?” He chest heaved up and down as the distant threats of the Sith echoed in his ears and the screams faded into the sounds of rain lashing against glass and wood. 

“Skywalker.” The familiar and infinity more comforting face of Hondo swam into view. “Skywalker. Are you awake yet?”

“Ohnaka?” 

“Yes, it is me. Are you awake?”

“I think so.” He blindly felt for the hands on his shoulders. “He was there. He was there. The Sith was in my brain. I was. It was there.” 

“You’re on the Black , Skywalker. Your Sith lord cannot get to you here.” 

“How do you know?” Anakin leaned up as best he could, trying to focus his eyes. “He’s coming for me. I know it.”

“Skywalker, the Jedi do not know the Black so the Sith do not know the Black. Lean back Skywalker, the doctor needs to see you.”

“But he was there.” Anakin mumbled, trying to get his breathing even. “I could see him. I could sense him.”

“You need to calm down, Mr. Skywalker.” A kinder smoother voice broke in, “Please let me help you.”

Anakin narrowed his eyes at the man leaning in Hondo’s place. “Who are you?”

“I’m Doctor Tani, I’m here to help you.” 

“Okay.” He settled back against the pillow, taking in the room as the doctor ran a scanner over his chest and then his limbs. It wasn’t a large room, the walls and slanted ceilings evidently made of wood. Wind and bits of leaves and sticks smacked against the window while the window howled against the house. “Okay.” He wasn’t lying prone on a battlefield somewhere with his padawan dead in front of him. He knew Ahsoka was with Obi Wan at least and that Rex….he didn’t actually know Rex’s fate. As far as he knew he had been the only one to make it off the planet before Villa had bombed his village to the ground. 

“There’s something interfering with the reading.” The doctor muttered, “I think it might be.” 

“A transmitter,” Anakin supplied wearily, glancing from the weequay to the human. “I know. Ignore it.”

“You have a transmitter!” Hondo’s surprise was genuine. “Why? Wouldn’t Kenobi had it removed by now?”

“I know for a fact the Jedi have a scanner that can do it.” Doctor Tani frowned at the results and an expression of ugly fury overcame his face. “They should have operated.” 

“They didn’t.” In the wake of his nightmare, Anakin didn’t have the energy or strength to contradict either of them. What could he have told them? That Qui-Gon had won him in a pod race? That the man had died without ever actually freeing Anakin? Could he tell them that Obi Wan had inherited Anakin as a reluctant slave and a more reluctant padawan? He had managed, eventually, to parse together the idea that they truly did not consider him bound in slavery any longer. Which was laughable considering he made no choices for himself and obeyed and addressed everyone older than him as ‘Master.’ Did he tell them that Kenobi legally owned him and that neither of them actually knew where his remote was? 

Anakin hadn’t questioned the lack of operation to remove to transmitter because it had been until he was 15 did he discover that everyone thought he was ‘free’ and therefore no longer needed the surgery. 

He didn’t feel free. 

“What can you do?” Hondo demanded, “This is demeaning.” 

“You sell slaves too,” Anakin pointed out, rolling his eyes when Hondo was offended. “Don’t look at me like that, I know you’re a slaver.”

“I run spice and weapons….not slaves…often.” 

“Captain Hondo,” Doctor Tani pointed toward the door, “I’m going to need you to leave.” 

“Ah, okay. I will leave.” Hondo brushed off his jacket and stomped from the room, “See if I rescue you from a Sith prison again, Skywalker. Ungrateful brat.” 

“Don’t mind him,” Tani said, sitting on the bed next to him, “And look at me. Mr. Skywalker, I have been examining you since we brought you to the Black and I’m going to say that is if this is the world of the Jedi I will burn the Temple to the ground. Or, if this is the world of someone else and the Jedi didn’t do anything I’m still going to burn the Temple to the ground. There is no excuse blessed enough by any deity to excuse such a significant lack of medical care.”

“I’m in the med-bay a lot,” Anakin retorted but not enthusiastically enough for the man to stop. 

“For a patch job maybe. But to let those bruises and those hairline fractures in your ribs to heal properly? Or maybe the truly horrifying number of bruises to your bones, the broken limbs that healed poorly or maybe that fact that you show significant and obvious signs of having been used as a human lightening rod.” 

“It happens.” Anakin shrugged. 

“Do you know what lightening can do to you? The behavioral problems that arise, the misfiring the brain, the long term damage to your nervous system.”

“Sith-lightening is a common problem for all front line Jedi.”

“Skywalker.” The word was drawn out between clenched jaws. “You have damage to every single part of your body. And I haven’t even touched the trauma to your mind. What, does health care not exist anymore for the Republic? Eh? The shit is going on out there?”

“They…might have defunded the Healthcare system…about eight weeks ago. The bill was pretty well debated but it still got pressed through. I’m not really sure how though, they had a majority vote the night before.” 

“My god!”

“Yep.” A little at a loss for words, Anakin watched the man poke him a few more times. “Where’s my prosthetic?”

“In the repair shop,” Tani grumbled, “I’d like to discuss the possibility of physical therapy for you while we send you through a medical regiment that will fix you to the best of our abilities.”

“How long will that take?”

“About five months, give or take. And that’s on an accelerated rate. I’d really like for you to take it easy. We’re going to have re-break some bones that didn’t heal right.”

“What about the war?”

“What about it?” Tani patted his shoulder, “It will go on without you I’m sure.” 

‘But I have to get back.” Anakin protested miserably as the man pushed him back onto the pillows. “My men need me.” 

“You’re not going anywhere right now Skywalker. Until you can sit up without getting dizzy.”

“I’m not dizzy,” He lied.

“You haven’t eaten in several days and you’ve been getting fluids through IV lines.” Tani grumbled, “I am a doctor and so help me if you don’t behave I will….steal all your left socks and…stuff.” 

“Right.” Anakin watched the man and then focused on the rain splattered window. Beyond it was a planet and beyond that was the galaxy at war. He didn’t know what Padme would do in his absence. He wasn’t even sure what kind of news had filtered back to her. What had happened to Ahoska? What had happened to his men and where was Obi Wan. “I don’t feel so well.” 

“I’m not surprised but don’t worry. We’ll get you fixed up and help you get through this. And your recovery, Skywalker, is going to be a long, difficult one.”

“Why?”

“Because you are a patchwork human, Skywalker,” the doctor snorted and finally sighed. “Skywalker, if I saw these scars on anyone I’d be filing for them to be separated from whichever entity is allowing this kind of abuse.”

“I’m a general in a war.” 

“That makes no difference.” Tani grumbled, “Now, you will be a good patient for me or I’ll make sure the only food you get is porridge and oatmeal.” 

“Doc.” Anakin shuffled a bit beneath his blankets. It was clearly night and the man looked tired. “I have some questions about this place.”

“First thing you need to know is that no one knows about it except those we want to know. Secondly, the Boss let you here because Hondo asked so if you do something stupid, like stealing a ship, you’ll be booted off.”

“What if I wanted to leave?”

“Sure, go back to that war with a missing leg and arm. Go back to the war with your head stuff full of nightmares. Why not? Why not care about yourself for a while with people who are willing to help you. Do you want to Skywalker, do you want to go back to the killing fields and stand shin deep in blood of clones and innocents? What about the passersby? Do they get a say if a stray bullet hits them? Eh? What about you? Do you get to heal, do you get to fix yourself with your nightmares and traumas and injuries?”

“They need me.” Anakin protested when he felt the cool touch of bacta against his skin. “They need me out there.”

“They’ll manage one way or another without you, Skywalker.”

“You sure have a lot of opinions, Doc.”

“I was conscripted by the Republic a year ago. I defected and ran away. I got brought to the Black six weeks ago. I know what’s going on. I know war and I hate it and I’m not going to play lap toy to the Jedi asses running this killing show.”

“I’m a Jedi.” 

“Eh.” Anakin didn’t know if he was comforted or not. He was tired, exhausted by a bone deep weariness that made the edges of his eyes fuzz and every word harder to understand. “That means little in the galaxy as it is. It means less when your council is to blame for this damned war anyway.” 

“Uh,” He shifted when the man held up a hypo. “What’s that?”

“A vitamin supplement, you’re deficient.” 

“Oh.” He wasn’t surprised and yet he was still surprised. “What…what?”

“I’m going to give you a sedative, Skywalker. You need more sleep while we finish off some or our more delicate surgeries. We have a few and hopefully the next time you wake you’ll have your limbs replaced and be healthy enough for the Boss lady to interview.”

“Who is the boss?”

“The one telling us to patch you up, blondie. But you weren’t supposed to wake up though I guess that’s your nightmare?”

“Yeah?”

“We’ll see about giving you a better dose after your surgeries.” 

“What about the transmitter?”

“Until we can build a functional scanner most of us just have to live with them. As soon as we can perfect our tool then we’ll put you on the list, alright?”

“I could build one,” Anakin said softly, slipping back into sleep. “Just….let…me try.” His head lolled to the side and the doctor lifted the hypo away from his arm. Doctor Tani carefully folded the limp arm over his torso and tip-toed toward the door. “I had to give him a preliminary sedative, get the surgery room prepped for operating.”

“Gotcha, doc.” The medical techs and nurses swarmed into the room with Anakin and hoisted him onto a gurney. 

#$#$#

The third time Anakin woke up he felt peculiar, like someone had blown up a ballon in his stomach and was suspending him above the bed he resting in. It was an odd sensation and he desperately wanted it to go away. 

“Hey, you’re awake.” Blearily he pulled his eyes open and saw Caleb Dume standing beside him. “You’ve been asleep for a while.” 

“Un…conscious?” 

“Nope, asleep. Like a whole day or something. Uncle Tani said your surgeries took a while.” 

“Surgeries?” Well, on the single hand that remained his fingers were set in small casts, bound up to keep him from using them. He could feel the pull of fresh surgery scars and the tell-tale tingle of bacta working the last of its magic on his limbs. 

“Apparently there was a bunch they had to do but I don’t know all of it. They wouldn’t tell me.” 

“Huh.” Anakin shifted beneath the blanket tried to move. His arms were heavy, too heavy and his legs were aching. Breathing, he could feel every molecule rushing into his lungs and out again. The endless cycle made him dizzy and uncomfortable. “I can’t move.”

“Yeah….do you want food?” Caleb leaned over Aankin and gingerly patted his shoulder. “I can get you some food.”

“Yes,” Anakin nodded blearily, “food is good.” 

“I’ll be right back.” Caleb promised and pressed fleeting kiss to his forehead. Anakin had a vague memory of him doing that before but he couldn’t be sure. When the ex-padawan’s footsteps retreated, Anakin found himself looking back as Doctor Tani as he re-entered. 

“Good Afternoon, Skywalker. You look like you’re recovering well.” 

“I guess.”

“You won’t be able to move your prosthetics until we get them re-calibrated and you can’t move your other limbs because we had to re-fuse some of the ligaments and tendons in your shoulders and hips. Which I haven’t had to do in ages, by the way.”

“Do I win a prize?” 

“Yeah, bedrest and sleep. The medicine will wear off in a few hours so don’t act as if it the end of the galaxy that you can’t move.” 

“Caleb said he’d bring me food,” Anakin tensed when the man reached for him but the doctor just helped him sit up properly. “I can’t use my hands.” 

“Caleb’s very excited to have another temple trained force user here. He’d been asking after you so make sure you be nice to him, alright. I don’t want to see him distraught because you were a jerk.”

“Hey!” Offended, Anakin glowered but wiped the expression off his face when Caleb re-emerged with a tray of food. It looked like there was a soup of some kind, a bread and a cup of water.

“Cookie said you can’t much yet,” Caleb shrugged apologetically when he set the tray onto the dresser. “Sorry.”

“Hmm.”

“Hey, Doc.” 

“Caleb, I’ll leave Skywalker here in your hands. Make sure he gets some of the food down, alright?”

“Sure thing,” Caleb gave a cheeky salute and ducked under the man’s half-heated swing and bounced over to Anakin. “I hope you like soup. Cookie makes the best soup.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” 

“Okay.” Anakin felt a horrible blush work its way through his system when he saw Caleb had picked up the bowl in one hand a spoon in the other. “You can’t feed me. I can do it.”

“But the doc said you can’t.” 

“Dume.”

“It’s okay to ask for help, Skywalker.” Caleb nodded at him, “I can help you.” 

“But,” He tried to wiggle his arms again, finding them useless, he finally nodded. “Fine.”

“Okay.” Caleb began to spoon up the soup, feeding it carefully to Anakin. Anakin found it delicious, hot and perfect. Even if there was little besides broth and some soft noodles. He was even able to look past the embarrassment of having a teenager feed him. “You’ve been out for a while. A couple of days and I was worried but Doc said you’d be okay. You just got beat up really bad.”

“I don’t remember most of it,” Anakin admitted, “I don’t remember much but the Sith.” 

“I’m not surprised; you had a pretty bad head injury when you were brought in.” 

“Is that why I hear ringing noises?” Anakin wondered. 

“It might be.” Caleb spooned the last few drops of broth into his mouth. “Here, do you want the bread?”

“Yeah.” It took Anakin a few minutes to eat it and he focused his eyes on the window. Light was streaming through the glass, indicating an afternoon sun. “You called his place the Black right?”

“Yep, Grandma is in charge. She let Uncle Hondo bring you here.” 

“Who is Grandma?”

#$#$3

“You think this Shadow has finally showed himself?” Hondo watched the flickering blue of the holo. The face of Chancellor Palpatine talking to the senate made him feel vaguely nauseous. IT could have something to do with the fact the man was a politician or it could have been the questionable meat he’d had on his way over. “It has been ages since you saw the last indicator.” 

“Once is enough to catch a thread again, Hondo.” The figure pacing around the table paused. “I thought it might have stopped but the patterns have been re-appearing at a concerining rate.”

“So….?”

“I am retired! I should be sipping booze on the beach and shooting down Starfighters. I should not be sitting around watching some shadow stretch their influence across the outer rim.” 

“What do you to do then?” Hondo tapped the side of his drink, “Stay retired….as much as you claim to be retired, or do you want to pick a fight?” 

“I am too old for this.” The current leader of the Ohnaka gang watched his mother sink into on the available chairs. “I retired for a reason but this Shadow is making all of my enterprises profitless and I do not enjoy watching my money vanish.”

“Mama.”

“Hondo,” He stopped when she smacked her hand against the table, “This is ridiculous. You and I have been losing money! In the middle of a galaxy like this we are losing money! This is obscene, unprecedented! In the middle of a war pirates and scum should be rolling in credits. Our shell companies are shutting down because of an increase of taxes they simply cannot afford. Our ships are being destroyed by Seppies and pirates and Jedi alike! Where is the respect for the old ways of pirating? Eh? Nowhere, it is ugly, son.” 

“Well, we did think the Shadow was gone.” Hondo pointed out. The patterns of crime and bribes and seemingly begin actions of the Senate had increased in the last few years. A sticky web sinking over the galaxy as a whole, it had ensnared everyone and they didn’t even know it. Except the Black, it was the only place the Shadow’s influence had not yet reached. Hondo knew this because, in his long life, he had watched the web be woven. Well, he hadn’t noticed it. His mother had noticed it sometimes in his second century had had little to do with it. Neither of them cared if the galaxy went to hell in a hand basket. 

Hondo was focused on making money. His mother was focused on making money. 

“For a week, perhaps.” Honodo Ohanka stood again, sweeping around the table. “We need money. The Black was supposed to be my retirement, my home and then we started letting others on it and then it grew into this ridiculous colony.” Not that Honodo seemed to mind. She had been able to spend a whole year thinking she could retire to a live of sleeping and counting credits. Then, a ship of refugees had been stranded and Honodo had allowed them to settle her planet a bit as long as they paid a fee. (The fee being an occasional pie and some alcohol when they got the sill running.) More people came, stumbling upon the Black. Hondo and his crews brought back families and victims and run-away slaves. The whole thing had expanded into a fully functioning planet by accident. Which Honodo hadn’t minded because running a planet gave her something to do now that she wasn’t marauding the space lanes. 

“If we don’t do something then we are going to run out of money and the Black will not be able to function. We have enough yes, for a decade or six but not for the future. Hondo, I believe I will need to come out of retirement.” 

“That is a big step, Mama.” Hondo passed her his drink. She slammed the alcohol back and hurled it against the wall. “How would you do it?”

“We’re going to take out the Shadow. Hunt this scum down and drop him into a volcano. I will not let this happen anymore. I want the Republic to be the stupid fools they were. I want the Jedi to go back to their books and self-importance. I want this war over and I want the Shadow to gone.” Honodo paced a few more minutes. “It showed it’s hand.” 

“You think the Shadow is connected to Skywalker?”

“I think the Shadow is connected to the Sith,” Honodo rubbed the tags that hung from her chin to her collarbone. Her graying tags shivered at the touch. The grin she flashed at Hondo was the same kind of smile that had sent pirates and civilians running for cover. “The Sith kidnap the Jedi. The Count is blamed for it on the holo-net but the Jedi says the Count was not involved.”

“This Sith blamed the Count?” 

“Yes.” Honodo snapped her fingers. Once, those fingers had been laid heavy with jewels and finery. Her whole person decked in beautiful things to show all that she had power and firepower. Now, her coat had been passed onto Hondo and she had adopted much simpler clothes when she had accidently become a planetary leader. Standing next to her finely dressed son her farming and mechanics clothes looked odd but none who knew her would ever make the mistake of thinking she had any less power. “I am old enough to see the writing on the wall, Hondo. The Shadow is responsible for the whole of the galaxy now. The war, the clones, the Jedi’s kidnapping, the death of the cyborg general. The patterns are re-emerging and I do not like it.” 

“What do you want me to do, Mama? I can move money and ‘acquire’ the funds to find them.”

“No, money is the end goal. Finding them means we must throw a stick into the web and start ripping it to pieces. This means we must, to find who in influencing the galaxy, start a fight.”

“There is already a war on, Mama.” Hondo followed the aging weequay through the doors and into her private sitting room. “What more of a fight can we pick? I think…the Jedi could stop it even if we did.” 

“Good business sense means that we need to start where no one is looking.” Honodo replied, looking around the room. “We need to carve out a niche and expand and by the time the Shadow notices our work it will be too late for it. When it begins to move against us we will be able to see what strings it is pulling with whom.” 

“But the Jedi! I have met Kenobi, he is very clever. He might try to stop our newest venture.”

“Kenobi is one person. He is run ragged enough as it is.” Honodo overturned a few couch cushions to find a datapad. Her heavily wrinkled face shifted into an expression of delight. “The Shadow pinned the blame of the Jedi’s capture on a man who was a Jedi and who is the Separatist leader.” Her voice dipped lower, “And the evidence to support it. We know differently and they do not. We can assume the Shadow has some measure of influence over the Jedi fools so they will not be a primary concern.”

“Mama, you know I trust you and that you are the smartest business woman I know but I must ask, why?”

“An investment into the future, my son. I have not survived over 500 years because I was stupid. I see the influences on the galaxy. I know what to look for. These galactic events happen more often than you could expect.” She passed him the datapad, “I want money in the future and I will not have any unless we go to war ourselves.” 

 

“But you do not know who to pick a fight with yet.” 

“No!” Honodo paused in her frantic typing long enough to narrow her gaze, “Do you not believe this will succeed?” 

“I do not know, Mama.” Hondo waved his arms and eventually settled them on his hip. “New business ventures are always risky and there is no guarantee of profit but I suppose that would make it boring.”

“Yes, son.” She slapped his back and laughed. “Yes! No profit without a gamble. But not too much of a gamble. I want to look at these numbers before I give a green light into a fight.”

“Number’s? Mama! I do know any other pirate who uses accounting and sociology to know the best targets to hit.” Hondo yelped when his mother grabbed his ear yanking his head around.

“BAH! You could have been a better Boss if you had just gone to college like I told you! Never mock my degrees, brat! The best gangs are the ones that can work with their brains! The Hutts have whole crews of accountants and lawyers to keep them wealthy and safe! And who runs the Outer Rim? The Hutts? The Zygerrians! The Black Sun! People with education and brains!” 

“MAMA! That is my ear!”

“I KNOW!” Honodo shook him a few more times before releasing him, “You should have gone to school like I told you! I should have never allowed you to take the gang.” 

“I’ve made money! I made a lot of money.” Hondo protested.

“Petty crime,” Honodo spat, “Petty crime with petty results.” 

“Well your shoes are hard to fill.” Hondo rolled his eyes, reaching for his flask. 

“You could have filled them better if you had gone to college.” Honodo grumbled. “Could have rivalled the hutts with enough time and manpower but you wanted to knock over pleasure yachts.”

“I don’t want to have this argument again, Mama!” Hondo brushed off his coat. “Not again!” 

“You should have listened the first time.” She rolled her eyes and stomped toward her office. “Go get me updates on Skywalker! I’ll call you back when I have a plan.”

“Fine!” Hondo shouted and chuckled when he heard a door slam shut. 

#$#$

“How do you feel?” 

“Tired.” 

“I’m not surprised but at least you’re standing now.” 

“Five days after surgery.” Anakin groused, taking careful steps around the room as his entire field of vision went fuzzy. “I’m still getting dizzy.” 

“That’s the repair work to your eardrum. It’ll throw you off your balance for a bit.” Tanis took his elbow and carefully pulled him toward the bed. “We don’t want you falling down.” 

“Huh.” Anakin had spent a truly frustrating five days trying to get his limbs back in working order. He felt like an infant, being led around and gingerly handled. His frustration had culminated in the breaking of several dishes and a window when his Force waves blew them apart. Despite his insistence that he didn’t want help they helped him anyway, walking him through the motions to reconnect prosthetics and testing out the limits of his repaired muscles and tendons. While he was still sore most all over; he did feel better than he had in years. No one on the planet had any information on the war. And no one really wanted to talk about it. Caleb looked guilty and would disappear for hours after Anakin asked. Dr. Tani would grumble and go silent. The others, Toomba and Piino, would do whatever they were doing but do it louder. He hadn’t seen Hondo but Tani promised the pirate would answer the questions he had when he came back. 

“He’s visiting Grandma.” Caleb told him when Anakin was tapping out the patterns on his therapy sheet. “Don’t worry, he was worried about you while you were in surgery.” 

“Really? I’ve never known Hondo to worry about anyone else.” 

“He doesn’t really but I think this is about…” Caleb got a furtive look on his face and went silent and wouldn’t speak any more on the subject. “Anyway, you’re getting better.” 

Now, Anakin breathed out a deep sigh while his world settled back into place. When the dizziness passed, he asked, “How much damage to my ear was there?”

“Well, it’s pretty obvious you’ve spent the last year and a half on the frontlines. I’m not surprised they haven’t repaired them yet but I’m actually shocked you weren’t deaf.” 

“I heal pretty fast.” Anakin stared at the wooden slat ceiling. 

“I’ve noticed,” the man said dryly. “I’m impressed. What do the temple docs say about it?” 

“That it’s the will of the force.” It was rustic looking ceiling, grainy and faded but still handsome. He wondered why the place seemed so rundown and ancient but, in truth, wasn’t. Was there a reason the house seemed old when it really wasn’t? Anakin could hear floor boards creak and windows rattle. But, it was tight as a drum and the heating system kept him warm enough. 

“That’s a crock of….stuff. Anyway, you should sue.” 

“I can’t sue the Jedi order,” Anakin laughed, “I don’t think you can.” 

“Actually,” A new voice joined in. This one was older, smooth but with the same cadence of Hondo’s. Distinctly female it startled Anakin into an upright position. He had moved to fast and a second later was flat on his back again. “You can sue the Jedi order. No one does though.”

“Uh…hello.” Anakin sat back up. She was a weequay, older than any one he had seen. Her head as bald except for the tags on her chin, those were long and graying. The deep, pronounced wrinkles on her face and hands told Anakin she had to be the most senior weequay on the planet. He was wary, however. The woman was wearing simple farming clothes but Anakin had been around rulers and Queens enough to know that she was one. “Boss?”

“Ah! Look at how smart he is!” She slapped her thigh and moved into the room. “Tani, he is smart!”

“Yes, Boss.” 

“Thanks.” Anakin moved back when she settled onto the bed. “Uh.”

“I am the Boss of the Black.” She waved at him. “Now, I need your brain. What would happen if a war between pirates and smuggler started on the outer rim?”

“What?” 

“What would the Jedi do if the criminals all started fighting?” 

“Uh….well….it depends if it spills over into our jurisdiction. Also, if it interferes with their plans.”

“At the moment could the Jedi put down an Outer Rim revolution?”

“Right now? Maybe. It depends if the Separatist movement picks up any more planets than the one I just lost.” 

“Well, according to the latest intel General Villa is heading to Ryloth right now.” Anakin grimaced. “I think a suicide mission.” 

“You’re probably right,” The Jedi pondered the problem. “Taa has too much influence in the Senate for them not to send a member of the Council. Villa might have mange to stop me but I don’t think she’ll manage against one of them.”

“So…if this Villa person dies then that means the Separatists will not be picking up as many systems as they need?”

“Probably but if she wins Ryloth then it’s possible that Count Dooku could solidify his hold on the Mid Rim. No one really holds the Outer Rim; it changes custody too often to make a huge difference. The sieges were mostly over Hutt space so we could use their hyperspace lanes.”

“Ah, so….this is good news.” 

“For you?” 

“For me, tell me, when you are healed and Tanis clears you for…anything.” She waved her hand for emphasis, watching Anakin closely. He felt like a bug under a microscope, the scrutiny was frightening. “What do you want to do?”

“I….I…um…am needed on the front lines.” Anakin said slowly, leaning away. 

“And if you were….say…dead? Hypothetically, what crusade would you embark on? If any.”

“Crusade?” 

“Yes, yes. I know Anakin Skywalker. You won the Boonta Eve Classic. You were a slave, you have a transmitter and now you are Jedi. So if you were no longer bound to the Jedi…what would you do?” 

Blue eyes narrowed, “I don’t think this hypothetical is very hypothetical.”

“Well?”

“I’m not dead,” Anakin said even as he remembered his last day on Tattooine. His promise to his friend and his mother.

“But if you could abandon your duties as a Jedi?” Her tone turned soft, compelling. “What. Would. You. Do?”

“I’d….I’d…” His breath was short, hope leaping in his heart and thumping on his stomach. The half-forgotten stories of his youth hand the oath he had made to his mother. He remembered her death. The shame of their bondage. The anger that lived in his very bones with every passion Obi Wan had trained out of him. His eyes were wide as he met those of the Pirate Queen. “I’d free the slaves.” 

“You’re right.” She patted his knee and waved her hands, “You are dead. Congratulations, you are the healthiest dead Jedi I have ever met. And you can help me in my latest business venture.” 

“What?” He tilted his head. 

“I plan to start a new war. Against the Hutts against Black Sun and against the Zygerrians. The best way to do that is to undermine their money and to undermine their money I must take from them their business. And that business is.” 

“Slaves. But why? What do you want with?”

“I need money,” She shrugged. “The Black is not cheap. As an economist I can see downward trends in the galaxy and we are in a spiral at the moment. To throw a wrench in these works I want to…” 

“Liberate the Outer Rim?” Anakin asked skeptically. His eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline. 

“Eh?” She shrugged. “Don’t say is like that. That makes me sound like a do-gooder. I am a pirate. I will do this for money.” 

The Jedi had never freed the slaves because they were the backbone of so much of Republic money. The Republic wasn’t going to throw away free labor on the grounds of morality. If the Boss was willing to ask Anakin to free the slaves because she wanted to make money…then he wasn’t going to quibble. 

“An army from on high won’t work.” 

“I didn’t expect it to.” She rubbed her chin, staring at him. “the Black protects a lot of former slaves….escaped and such. They, like me, only fool themselves into thinking that they can live in retirement. Scrap the Republic and scrap the Confederacy! I want money. This investment will be much worth it.”

“Then when do we get started?” Anakin moved to his feet carefully and yelped when she yanked him back down. “HEY!”

“We get stated later. This is the planning stage, foolish boy.” The boss moved to her feet with a heartfelt groan. “I’ll call you over when the planning is started. Now get better.”

“Wait! How are you?”

“I am Boss Honodo, founder of the Ohnaka gang.” She gave a deep, exaggerated bow. “Now, sleep.”

 

“Are you Hondo’s mother?” Anakin grimaced, until now he’d thought Hondo had sprung, fully formed, from cup of booze and a pile of bad decisions. 

“Yes, I am.” She nodded proudly, puffing out her chest.

“Three hostages is good business?”

“Do not sass me! Three hostages is great for business.” 

“Okay?” Anakin would ignore the fact that she’d clearly taught Hondo all he knew. He could at least take solace in the fact that this would send Dooku into an apoplectic fit. It wasn’t until Anakin was alone again did he remember he had yet to inform Padme that he had not been killed in action. “Shavit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens! If you have questions or suggestions send them my way! I love talking to ya'll .


	4. Ryloth Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryloth is taken.

“General, we’re coming up on the Ryloth system.” Mace Windu turned from his conversation with Tarkin to face the oncoming clone. The dull muttering around the holo-table paused. Average citizens alike and clones all stopped moving as the moment and all of its potentials finally touched on their minds. They exchanged a few glances and significant looks as the Jedi nodded.

“Good. ETA?”

“Ten minutes, General.” 

“Send an all-ready signal to the crew. Have the med-bay on standby and prepare for battle.”

“Yes, sir.” The clone saluted and left as the Jedi Master turned back to the holo table. 

“This is going to be both a naval battle and a surface battle.” The holo turned to the floating planet of Ryloth. “We need to make landfall here, here, here, and here. Here is where Cham Syndulla is known to be. If we can speak to him we can convince him to use his freedom fighters to aid our cause. Admiral, make sure that squadrons are ready to make the shift from vacuum to atmosphere.”

“Yes, General.” 

“I presume you will be making the surface attack,” Tarkin asked.

“Yes. Once the Capital is taken then there should be no resistance from any Separatist commanders. The hardest thing to take will be the capital which is why I want our troopers around here and here to cut a path through Confederate lines to make it to the Capital. Our shock troopers and bombing raids should make enough of an impact but make sure the GAR troops are ready to take out anti-aircraft weapons.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And what of me?” Orn Free Taa lumbered into view, disgusted by the clones and the Jedi around him. “When will I regain my rightful position? I am Ryloth’s Senator! My people need me.” 

“You will be re-installed once we take the Capital, Senator.” Windu clasped his hands behind his back. “You will not leave this ship before then. It is too dangerous.”

“Nonsense. The Separatists are cowards and fools, they would never dare attack me.” 

“I believe they would,” Tarkin interjected. “For they are cowards and fools, they would seek to disrupt the natural order of the galaxy. Thus, they would attempt to have you killed.” Taa puffed and huffed his anger a few times but his greed was only surpassed by his fear of death. 

“Very well.” 

“Once we have established our presence on Ryloth, Senator.” Windu promised as the Senator waddled away, grumbling furiously. 

“Coming up on Ryloth,” A crewman called, “Five.”

“All hands to battle stations.” Windu called.

“Four, three, two…one.” The fleet reverted to real-space with a shudder; the orange and brown ball that was Ryloth was sitting serenely in space as if welcoming Republic conquest.

“What have we gone on screen, helmsman?” 

“Nothing yet, sir.” The clone reported, “Increasing our scanner sweeps….nothing still.”

“What of the Separatist fleet?”

“It doesn’t seem to be here, sir. We’re bouncing our signals off the holonet satellites around the planet. We’re not picking up any signals.”

“Increase the sweeps and prepare the landing parties.” Mace Windu could smell a trap. The Force buzzed around him in a confusing swirl. All potential shatter points were wavering, as if nothing had been identified yet. He sank into the force, reaching for the next solid shatter point and identified the possible outcomes. It told him that no matter what, his landing parties would not be interfered with. “Hmm.” What did Wat Tambor have planned? His file said he was ruthless and dangerous but no particularly brave. His fleet was one of the best the Confederacy had to offer and he had several gifted commanders with him. Why had he not been met with fire and death? “Tell the men to take great care. This reeks of a trap.”

“Is it possible for the Separatists to have fled the system?” Tarkin wondered, confused by the screen as well. 

“They have not left.” Windu shifted under his tunic and frowned at the planet. “Whatever is waiting for us will happen we must be ready.”

“Yes, General.” 

Four hours later there still had been indication that the enemy was still in the system. Nothing for the overstimulated clones to shoot at once they made landing and nothing for the edgy ship captains to destroy.

“There’s nothing going on here.” Windu was shaded his eyes against the sun, peering at the planets simple homes and worn out populace. A few brave twi’leks showed their faces out of their homes but for the most part no one showed up. “Captain, anything?”

“No sir, we’ve swept the area four times and still nothing.” The dull shuffling of armored feet and the clanking of the transports were the only significant noises in the canyon. It echoed off the walls and rebounded through his skull, Windu gritted his teeth. 

Something was wrong. He couldn’t tell what but something was going to happen. When reports came back that the other landing parties had landed unmolested, Windu’s annoyance grew. What game was he playing? 

“General.” Windu glanced down at the Clone that jumped onto the tank and scrambled beside him. “Nothing sir. We’ve swept the areas again and again and we’ve interviewed the Local Indigenous Personnel and there’s still nothing. They don’t have much to say in terms of clankers or Seppies. Just that they were here and they looked like they were packing up to leave. We’ve found traces of them at the major metropolis’ but nothing else. I don’t think we’ll even find them in the Capital.”

“A dangerous assumption, Captain, keep looking. Have all men on high alert, and double patrols. Tambor is still out there.” Windu rested his elbow on his knee and propped his head up on his palm to watch the sun begin to rise 

#$#$#4

Dooku had been a lonely for a long time. He’d broken when he’s discovered the closest thing he had to a son had been murdered and his grandson was an unimaginative tool for the Jedi Council. It would be lying to pretend he had never been attached to Kenobi. He had been fond of the boy who had once had the righteous anger of the slighted. Until Obi Wan had locked away what remained of himself away so as to gain favor with other Jedi. 

It would be a worse lie to say that he hadn’t been fascinated by Anakin Skywalker. The boy with immeasurable power and the scars and fears that would break a lesser being, a child’s body with an ancient soul. Dooku had once been fascinated by the boy. He’d seen him once as a new arrival at the temple, nine years old with scrawny limbs all but drowning in his robes. Dooku had seen the hatred in his eyes when he’d walked the proper distance behind Kenobi, grinding his teeth every moment of the way. But he’d lost his interest when he remembered who had found the boy. 

Qui Gon. The man had been far from perfect but Yan had still loved him, as exasperating as he was. So it wasn’t often that he found himself wandering through the storage room that held Qui Gon’s meager possessions. There were very few things of interest, a few trinkets and some books and box of cluttered electronics that had been haphazardly tossed together. 

The last few days of Sidous’ manipulations and the nasty political fallout of the having taken responsibility for killing Anakin Skywalker, the mess that was General Villa and Ryloth, Dooku needed a break. He did not want to train, he did not want to meditate, he just wanted to ignore the universe at large.

“Honestly,” he picked up another busted communicator and shook his head. Qui Gon chewed through them like candy. “I did not teach you this, Qui Gon.” Dooku riffled through the box a moment further and picked up a curious transmitter. He didn’t recognize it automatically and set it aside in favor of a holo-piece. It flared to life with a cheerful image, a young Anakin Skywalker riding high on the shoulders of Jinn, laughing. “What?” The Count blinked. This was new. He hadn’t seen it before. Dooku took a breath, recalling the details of Qui Gon’s last mission report. Summoning his personal datapad to his hand he clicked through the old files and found the one he needed. 

There hadn’t been many times that dawning realization had ever made Count Dooku ever feel this sick. The first time had been when he realized he could no longer be a member of the Jedi Order. The second when he learned the identity of the Sith lord and now when he realized just what Qui Gon had done. 

#$#$

“Eight days, Master Windu, and we’re still on high alert.” Tarkin glowered at the meditating Jedi. “It is my suggestion that we moved off high alert and move to begin re-affirming the Republics hold on Ryloth, we took the Capital with little trouble and none of our intelligence officers have found a hint of anything resembling Separatist activity.” 

“It is still dangerous.” Windu opened his eyes to stare at the younger human. “Wat Tambor has set a trap, an elaborate one. We did not win Ryloth because the Separatists have abandoned it; this is too important a world to ignore. Whatever battle plan they have they still haven’t used it. Taking us down from high alert would be foolish.”

“High alert does nothing more than tire the officers and the troopers.” Tarkin disagreed, “What is noticed on high alert is noted when we are not on high alert. We have not gotten our first fuel convoy or our first rations convoy, if we continue like this we will burn through our allotted supplies foolishly. There is too much fighting going on to be paranoid about a few tail heads.” 

“I appreciate your input, Tarkin.” His eyes slid shut, focusing on the force instead of the irritable human in front of him. “Please tell me when we make contact with Cham Syndulla.” A moment later the holo-device in front of his flared to life and revealed a few members of the Council. “Masters.” He nodded. The other returned his gesture. 

“What of Ryloth?” Yoda asked.

“Nothing yet. Wat Tambor, to all appearances, has abandoned the system. None of my men have found any information leading to the Confederacy. We’ve interrogated sympathizers and have been on high alert but still nothing.”

“You think there is a trap?” Plo Koon gestured carefully with his injured hand. 

“I do.” Mace confirmed. “Unless Wat Tambor has truly fallen to his cowardice then I might be being over-cautious.”

“The situation remains unchanged then?” Mundi asked and Mace nodded. “The Chancellor has no further intelligence for us either. He expressed confusion and distress over the situation. He hopes that you are victorious, no matter the situation.”

“My shatterpoints have led to nothing, the force seems more clouded than usual and I have not been able to discern what the future holds.” 

“Troubling this is.” Yoda nodded carefully, “caused by Skywalker’s death this may be.”

“It could be.” Mace frowned, rubbing his forehead. “Skywalker always did resonate oddly in the force. Which reminds me, what are we doing with his padawan?”

“After the display at the Senate, Padawan Tano is being reassigned.” Mundi said, “We have yet to ask the Master if they accept the responsibility.” 

“Who have you chosen?” Mace paused long enough to recognize the guilty expression his associates faces. “Masters.” 

“A good fit you will be.” Yoda said, steadfastly ignoring Winud’s glower. “Guidance she is in need of.”

“She has been forbidden from making contact with both Master Kenobi and Senator Amidala. We believe her attachments might herald something more dangerous.”

“I understand, send her with the next convoy of supplies. If we manage to resupply then we will come from high alert and begin installing Senator Taa and his governors.”

“Very well.” Yoda nodded and glanced over when Mundi leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Leave we must, trouble business summons.”

“I’ll wait for a report on the situation.” Windu nodded and the call was disconnected. He sank back into the force, wondering why nothing was making sense. 

ER$#$

Corporal Sato sank further into the mud as he hefted the bag of charges above his head. They were too valuable to be damaged by some careless though or some foolish action. If he dropped them he was sure his General would kill him. 

“How many are left?” The other Separatist soldier in front of him turned a bit, blinking mud and water off his eyes. 

“Eight,” Sato replied, counting the bulges out of the bottom of the bag. 

“Perfect, we’ve got eight points left.” The man began wading the direction of the next support beam, grinning back at a struggling Sato. “So, Navie, is this what you thought the mission would be like?”

“No.” Sato struggled as a bubble of gas burst, filling the narrow space with foul methane. He grumbled, “This is disgusting.” 

“Welcome the Army, kid.” They inched closer and closer to the next support beam. “Let’s try and hurry it up. I don’t want to know what the boss might do to us if we’re not done in time.” The two humans waded through the mud and grim beneath the foundations of the capital citadel, placing their bombs when needed.

#$#$3

The silence was unsettling for Waxer and Boil. Since they were still pretty green and having been tossed into the invasion fleet, neither of them felt particularly safe. 

“It’s too quiet, you never know what these tail heads are going to get up to.” Boil complained, ending around another house wall, glancing into the empty streets. “Where is everyone?”

“I don’t know,” Waxer said, equally concerned. “We’ve been here for weeks and nothing. We aren’t even on high alert anymore. Why haven’t the people returned to their homes?”

“I don’t know.” Boil shook his head and sighed when Waxer went wandering into a house. “Get out of there.” 

“YAA!” Waxer stumbled from the house, shouting in surprise and falling over himself as a tiny twi’lek pushed the unbalanced off the houses front step. “HEY!” 

“Waxer!” Boil’s blaster was up and pointed at the girl until his brother cut him off. 

“Don’t, I scared her.” Waxer said and scrambled to his knees to smile at the girl. She was standing in the shade of her front door, staring at them with obvious distrust. “I’m sorry.”

“She knocked you over.” Boil complained, still holding his weapon at the ready. “What are you doing?”

“She’s alone,” Waxer said, not taking his eyes off the little girl, “and she looks hungry. Come on, don’t you think that she might be in trouble?” The clone dug through his pockets to find a ration bar. He held it out to the little girl with a steady hand, trying to appear unthreatening. “Put your blaster down, she’s not going to hurt us. She’s all alone.” 

“Fine, but if she leads us into a trap then.”

“Then you can yell at me,” Waxer grinned when the girl rushed forward for the food and grabbed it. When she’d stuffed her face her expression shifted from distrust to open curiosity. 

“Hey there,” Waxer nodded when the girl stepped closer and closer to place her small hands on his helmet. “Are you alright?” She didn’t seem to understand, after a moment Waxer carefully lifted her in his arms. The girl didn’t protest and instead seemed content to lay her head against his shoulder. “Boil, I think we should get out of here. This place is getting quieter and I don’t like it.” 

“Like you would know,” Boil muttered but fell into step beside his brother, keeping his gaze about for her parents or anyone really. “Why is it so quiet?”

“Not sure, but it’s making the General nervous. It’s too quiet; we were expecting a fight when we landed.”

“We’re still expecting one.” They made their ways from the half-bombed out rubble of the city until they had reached the previous rendezvous point. No one was there. “Where is the commander?”

“I don’t know.” There was nothing, the tanks were gone, the other clones had vanished. As far as the two could tell it was as if no one had ever been there. “What the hell?” The twi’lek girl buried her face further into his chest, whimpering. “What is going on?”

They were alone. 

#$#$#

Orn Free Taa hefted his considerable weight into the lift, reveling in the familiar offices. He didn’t notice the excited face of his aides nor the glints in their eyes. They could not have been happier for his return so they could resume their own activities. For years he had controlled Ryloth from here, bribing the Prime Minister and killing off any competition. He was impressed with the rate the Separatist stuff had been removed.

“Sir.” He turned around, still smiling to himself. An aide, all but vibrating with glee waited for his attention. 

“What is it?” 

“A call is waiting for you, Senator.” The aide bowed. “In your office.”

“Ah, thank you. I will take it. Being re-organizing all of our files and work, we have much ahead of us to bring Ryloth back to the Republic.” 

“Of course, sir.” Taa nodded and made his way into his empty office. It had collected dust very well in his absence. He made a mental note to get his workers on it immediately. When he stepped onto the reception deck and pressed the appropriately button to accept the call, “This is Senator Taa.” 

“Orn Free Taa.” Standing in Confederate brown with a heavy great coat, thick boots, tattooed and armed was an unfamiliar twi’lek. She was attractive if not for her many scars and injuries. Her golden skin would have made him a hefty pile of credits with any buyer. He continued to assess her value, scanning her hands and muscles to see just how much the unknown twi’lek was worth. Despite her obvious age there was an ageless gleam to her eyes and stance that meant she had many years left in her. “I suppose I ought to have expected your vile gaze but I am here to tell you that it will not be for much longer.”

“What do you want?”

“Wat Tambor is not on Ryloth.” Taa startled, finally meeting the gimlet gaze. His stomach felt as if it was dropping through his boots. The attack Windu had feared! “Not that you will have the opportunity to tell anyone. Your death is imminent.” 

“Who are you?” Taa demanded, “I am Senator.”

“I am High General Villa,” her arms were not uncrossed and Taa leaned away from the murderous expression and the absolute promise of death. 

“What do you want?” He leaned away, clasping his hands to his chest and shooting nervous glances toward the door as if fearing droids would come rolling in. 

“Do not worry, Senator,” She rasped. “I would not waste droids on you. My plan is to ensure that your death serves a much different purpose.”

“Why have you called me then?” Taa demanded, “What purpose could you possibly have to tell me all of this?”

“For dramatic effect, of course.” General Villa turned her eyes from the trembling senator and nodded. “Fire at will, Commanders.” Orn Free Taa opened his mouth scream but had no time the building began to crumbled from the foundations up and fire fell from the sky.

#$#$

“Son of BITCH!” Mace Windu, felt, rather than saw the citadel in the center of the capital city fall from its grand height. The base exploded outward, sending rubble and smoke shooting out only to be followed by the entire building slowly sliding in on it, crumbling down and collapsing. From the sky a supercharged turbo laser slice through the clouds and burn the citadel away. Through his goggles he watched the surrounding buildings meet the same fate. Smoke and dust wreathed in fire as it formed an ugly mushroom cloud above the city. 

“The city was empty sir,” The captain at his side said before Mace could open his mouth. “People fled the city when they saw our tanks coming. The population is out there on the flats.” He pointed to a distant square that was the tents and shanties of the city’s population. “The only people there were.” 

“The government.” Mace swore viciously and reached for his squawking communicator. Tarkin appeared, harried and frightened. 

“Fifty ships, separatists, appeared out of nowhere!” He shouted, “We’ve been engaged our fighters but we’re picking up conflicint signals.” The communicator shut down with a crackle, sending the Jedi’s blood cold. 

“The holo net is down all over the planet.” He turned to the captain, “Get comms up and running, shortwave anything. I want to be able to talk to them. Get going.” Master Windu paused as he heard the horrifying, nightmarish familiar screaming whistle of artillery. “GET DOWN! INCOMING!” He threw himself flat in the dust as the world around him exploded. 

#$#$#$

The holo net satellites weren’t destroyed. They still hung in their predestined orbit but they no longer broadcast anything the Villa did not want them to. At the moment they were being used to make her paltry fleet look larger and better. Making bright illusions that her poorly repaired ships could pass through, enough of them to send Tarkin spin his ships to destroy invisible threats. Laser fire, real and not real, hammered the side of the Republic ships and their scattering fighters. On the surface of Ryloth, government buildings were going up in flames, bombs detonating against their foundations. Clones commanders and their bothers were being ambushed from every crevice and corner. 

$#$# 

Mace Windu rolled to his feet and shook his head through the ringing in his ears and the blur of his vision. Around him the bombs continued to fall, ripping apart tanks and people apart with ease. He stumbled into a boulder, clutching his chest. 

The attack he’d been anticipating. It was merciless, swift and nothing like he’d been expecting. He’d come to Ryloth with the anticipation of having to fight for every inch of ground. To have taken Ryloth only to have to have the rug pulled from beneath him was astonishing. His mind wavered as he considered the cold-blooded murder of Orn Free Taa and his aides and the government workers of the other buildings. With them gone the Separatist would have little trouble controlling the planet. He didn’t understand where they had been hiding, how they had kept their presence hidden, Mace went for his lightsaber as the too-familiar sound rolling droidekas approached. 

@#$#$

Waxer and Boil were too far away from the cities to have been caught in the blast of the city centers. They were too far from anyone really but they could still hear the distant sounds of battle. 

Waxer tightened his grip on the girl and scurried for cover, nodding his head for Boil to follow. 

“What is it?”

“I think someone’s coming.” Waxer hissed, “And we don’t have near enough supplies to take on anyone that might be coming through here. Come on, we’ve got to hide.” 

“Only cowards hide.” Boil retorted but followed anyway. 

“People with a kid with them hide,” Waxer said, and ducked around a boulder only to come face to face with a gold twi’lek and a blaster. “Shavit.”

“Clones.” The twi’lek was flanked by droids and organics alike. “What a strange place to find stragglers.”

Waxer swallowed nervously, tightening his grip on the little girl as his brother cursed at the sight of weapons on him. He noted her rank bars. “General, what a strange place to find you.” The gold skin around her eyes tightened and a particular glint of madness that nearly sent the green clone into a huddle mess shone in the evening sun.

“Indeed, what are you doing with a child?”

“You captured our group didn’t you?” Waxer hazarded a guess, watching the way Numa clutched him closer. 

“I’ve captured far more than your little group clone.” He swallowed. “I wonder if you would.” 

“NO!” Numa leaned out of his grasp toward the other twi’lek. She babbled furiously in her native language, waving her hands about. When she stopped her eyes were bright and she had her arms around his neck. 

“Kid.” He whispered, “Be careful.” 

“She’s asking for me to not kill you,” The General said mildly, “She doesn’t want you to get hurt, how precious.” 

“I.” Waxer took a cautious step back, eyes flickering to the dozens of troops behind her. She watched him wince. 

“I suppose I could indulge her, provided the two of you put down your weapons and surrender, if not then…you will not survive to see the moon rise.”

“Well that’s dramatic,” Boil whispered but grumbling, set his weapon on the ground. 

“I don’t know how the kid belongs to,” Waxer remained very still as a few seppies came to devoid him of his weapon and his helmet. “But she was alone and.” 

“Keep her,” The general shrugged, “but behave.” Waxer and Boil, too smart to pick a fight they had no chance of winning, surrendered with few grumbles. They kept close to one another and Numa when guards fell into step around them and prodded them into the walking convoy that followed the General. 

#$#$#

“Sir.” Chancellor Palpatine look up from a poorly written piece of legislation to see a frantic aide come barging in. He blinked when the young man slammed a datapad onto his desk. “SIR! We’ve just received word that Ryloth has fallen. Captain Tarkin managed to bring the news on his shuttle. Aside from himself his entire fleet was destroyed, General Windu is stranded on Ryloth and the holo net lines in the system are down!”

“Calm down,” He picked up the data pad, skimming his eyes over the report and felt his stomach sink. How had this happened? How had Villa managed to take her half-working fleet and destroy Tarkin and Windu? This had been a suicide mission, holding Ryloth was supposed to have killed the general. “I want the updates as soon as they come in and set up a call with the Jedi council.” He commanded, forcing himself to remain calm. None of this should have happened. Everything had gone wrong since his botched attempt to break Skywalker.

What was happening?


	5. the Living Force

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin learns some things and meets the last person he expected to.

Palpatine scrambled to put a different PR spin on the fall of Ryloth. His agents were re-tasked and re-managed to come up with evidence, false or not, that Wat Tambor had burned the planet to ashes. He worked overtime to come up with plausible excuses as to why the Techno- Union general might have been able to defeat Mace Windu. His propaganda needed to shift gears, his allied needed to be debriefed and his enemies brief on his spin of the situation. The Sith lord devoted three days to coming up with believable and factually supported lies. With the loss of Orn Free Taa his support in the senate had a distinct weak-link. Mothma and Organa wasted no time exploiting his vulnerability. Still, he was not a master Sith for nothing. He would never have been foolish to put all of his eggs in one basket. Even with Taa gone he was still the most powerful man in the galaxy. 

His political war machine ground on; unaware that someone was beginning to connect the dots. Someone far enough away that he and they would never meet and only one of them had any interest in the other. Someone old enough to have seen how he had worked and clever enough to making the deduction.

Honodo Ohnaka waited no time mobilizing her fleet and her gang. She had a good number of ships in the space-dock and repair yard that hung in orbit over the Black. Most of them had been stolen, a few Republic cruisers, a dozen or so Separatist corvettes, and a whole shipment of Jedi cruisers. 

“Hondo!” 

“MAMA!”

The makeshift War Room bustled with activity. Holograms and diagrams flickered in and out of life as the two pirates met in the middle. 

“You were right, Mama.” Hondo laughed, delighted. “A whole crew of the Red Flags will be passing through checkpoint 23. Spicers, all of them.” 

“Good!” Honodo gestured to the holos of her fleet. “Then we will destroy them!”

“All of that spice can be used!” Hondo interjected, “To waste such a high quality spices and then to ruin all of those pilots! This cannot be profitable.” 

“The Red Flags use substitutes in their spice,” Honodo said, drawing a finger between the image of a stolen Confederate ship and a scarred Wookie. “It is cheap garbage!”

“They have been selling it to me for 40 credits on the kilo!” Hondo protested, his hands waving about. He nearly knocked over a scurrying Jawa. “Mama, we must destroy them!” 

“Ion shots only,” the aged weequay stood and patted her sons arm, “We need those ships, we need to build up the fleet. The spicers and spice we space.” 

“Good!” 

“Why only spicers?” Most movement in the war room stopped when Anakin Skywalker limped into the room. He leaned heavily on his crutch, dark circles under his eyes were highlighted by his paleness. 

“They are the weakest criminals!” The Ohnaka’s explained cheerfully. “They are violent and stupid, ready to protect their cargo from each other and then outside forces! They do not have the brains to do anything else except run spice. This makes them vulnerable!”

“Okay,” Anakin limped to the holo table, “Do I get a ship?”

“Eh, we might steal you one but you are not cleared for duty.” Honodo slapped the table and gestured to her son, “When we do we will let you pick it out!” 

“Really?” Anakin looked hopeful and then crushed.

“No! But you will like your ship! Spicers first and then gunrunners and then we take the Zygerrians for a dance and then stomp on the Hutts toes. Clear them from the outer rim and the profit will all be ours.” 

“What profit?” Anakin wondered, “Spice, slaves, and guns?”

“Eh,” The pirates queens expression was worryingly noncommittal, “We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.”

“Right.” Anakin glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. “What did you want me for?”

“To talk to you! Now come, into my office.” The trio moved to the cramped office that was now packed with crates of blasters and explosives. Anakin sat down on a crated marked ‘Grenades’ and the Ohnaka’s both took the desk. “Here, a recording I want you to watch.” He caught it with a tendril of the force and turned it on without touching it. Anakin started and the device wavered when the image of Obi Wan emerged. Obi Wan was in in a stasis cuffs and field, suspended in the air. He recognized Geonosis and felt his stomach turn when Dooku appeared on the recording. They spoke for a few minutes, Dooku placating and Obi Wan defensive. After the silence when Dooku mentioned his former padawan their conversation took a turn for the worse.

“What if I told you the Republic was now under the control of a Dark Lord of the Sith?” Dooku asked, pacing in a circle about his grand-padawan. 

“No, it’s not possible. The Jedi would be aware of it.” Anakin grimaced, during the war Obi Wan had gone on a lot less to find out the truth. 

“The Dark Side has clouded their vision, my friend. Hundreds of senators are now under the influence of a Sith Lord called Darth Sidious” His stomach bottomed out and he felt a tremor of fear work along his spine. The truth rang in his hear, clanging for acknowledgement. Anakin watched with mounting horror as the holo continued.  
“I don’t believe you.” Obi Wan pronounced. 

“The viceroy of the Trade Federation was once in league with Darth Sidious but he was betrayed, ten years ago by the Dark Lord. He came to me for help; told me everything. You must join me, Obi Wan and together we will destroy the Sith!”

“I will never join you, Dooku.” There was a slant of assured arrogance in Obi Wan’s face that reminded Anakin of the many times the Jedi had ignored him or corrected him. He knew that expression too well. On the holo Dooku walked out of the pick-up range and his voice was heard next. 

“It may be difficult to secure your release.” Were the final words directed at Obi Wan the holo cut off. 

“Where did you get this?” Anakin demanded, “and I’ve heard nothing! Obi Wan never talked about this! How could he not mention this pieces of intel? A Sith controlling the senate?” 

“It is the only recording of the copy to survive.” Honodo said, crossing her arms, “We destroyed the rest.”

“How did you get this?” 

“I have made friend with someone with sticky fingers and a curious mind, they steal many thigns for me.” 

Anakin closed his eyes, “the Force is clouded with Darkness.” 

“Well, I don’t know!” Honodo shrugged, “But there is a Sith in the senate. The last time,” She paused and nodded, “The last time the Jedi and Sith went to war it was ugly, unprofitable. I want to make money and I need money and to get money I need to avoid the Sith and the Jedi from fighting more.” 

“Dooku is a Sith Lord.” 

“He is not the ony Sith Lord!” Hondo exclaimed.

‘The Rule of Two!” 

“How do you know about that?” Anakin wondered.

“It is not…common knowledge but I am old! I am very old and I happened to destroy a temple once where this crazy ghost talked to me a lot. I do not enjoy talking to dead humans. Dead means dead.” 

“A blue ghost?” Anakin stared and then focused his gaze on the woman with renewed interested. “Are you force sensitive?” 

“No! Do not insult me!” Anakin leaned away from the wildly waving hands. “I am a pirate queen.” 

“Right, but the Sith?” 

“So, the Sith Lord is Palpatine and he is training Dooku in the darkness or whatever you Jedi call it.” 

Anakin stared and then stared some more before looking out the window. “I don’t ….how do you know?” 

“I am old, I remember watching the entire place to the pits,” Honodo said, “Governments fall and become useless and it happens all the time. Someone, someone clever started…speeding up the process for the Republic. Rumors, whisper campgns, fights, wars, murders. All started to connect the longer it went on. I had studied sociology in political science in an effort to make my people into a planet that could earn the right to be represented in the Senate. I only became a pirate when my petitions to join were rejected and rejected and my titles were stripped. So, I left and from a distance I noticed more and more things and the whole government was slowing down. When the Trade Federation hit I knew something had happened but I was not sure…what it was. Ten years this shadow went silence, no more political murders, no more anything that would draw attention to him. Then, the Clone War began.” Honodo pursed her lips. “I got a hold of this recording and knew that the Republic would lose the war.” 

“One Sith in the Republic and the other in the Confedracy. It is child’s play!” Hondo exclaimed cheerfully, “Fight and fight and fight and people will not notice anything else. Mama is clever and wise and old.” Anakin nodded along with his assessment and swallowed heavily.

“So! The net is out and the trap it laid and what have the Sith always wanted?”

Anakin shook his head, unable to form a response. 

“To rule the galaxy!” Honodo slapped Hondo’s shoulder hard enough to send him to the floor. There the other pirate laughed and stumbled upright. “This is galactic conquest!”

“We have to warn them!” Anakin jumped to his foot and steadied himself on a crate and his crutch. 

“Who?” Honodo held out her hands and flapped them in front of his face. “The Jedi?” 

“They knew and they did not listen.” 

“The Republic?”

“What about them? What has it ever done for you?”

“We have to tell someone!” Anakin cried, frustrated. 

“We just told you.” Honodo’s too sharp eyes turned to him and he blanched. She was not a person to trifle with. “The best way to get rid of this bug is to do what bugs do not like.”

“What’s that?” 

“Ruin their web!” Anakin blinked and their smiles faded when he failed to respond. “Skywalker, we are offering you a partnership in one of the most profitable cons I have ever run. First, I do not care enough about the Republic to do anything for them. I do not care enough for the Jedi to help them be smart. I do not care about the Confederacy. I care about my home and my profit and that is all.” 

“But people.” 

“Eh, who cares? I am a pirate,” Honodo shrugged, “the first attack of our little war starts in fifteen hours when the Red Flags make stop at a check point to make a new hyperspace jump.”

“Okay, we have a transport ship so we’ll be back in a few days with new ships to be repaired!” 

“But what about the people?”

“What about them?”

“WE need to help them!”

“We…will be stopping slavers and such and criminals and killing all of the Hutts. That will be helping them. Their governments are not my problem.” Honodo did not seem impressed by the Jedi’s protest. “That is too lofty a goal and altruism is not profitable.” 

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Do what you wanted.” Honodo ignited a hologram of Tatooine, “Come, do not tell me you do not wish to feed Jabba to his own rancor? Do you not want to burn the slave quarters down? You cannot do that if you are trying to lead the Republic to safety, they will crash as they want to. We will be making money.” 

“You are a greedy miser.” Anakin said and accepted that Honodo would not be swayed. There would be time later and he really did want to start burning the criminals right from the universe. “And you’re criminals, why do you want…oh, profit.”

“Yes! You are right, Hondo! He is clever! I like.” 

“So with a Sith in charge of the senate,” He felt nauteous and wanted to throw up but found himself rallying every piece of sanity he possessed. “What are you going to do?”

“Make life difficult, there are more connections I can tell you about, Mr. Dead Jedi but I will wait until later. Now, you must go back to Caleb. Entertain him and be his friend.”

Anakin blinked and he looked carefully at the two before asking, “Where is the doctor?”

“Back at the house,” Hondo waved a hand, “Go, go, drink something strong. Have a smoke, relax!” 

“Right.” When he’d found the doctor and locked them both in his room, he proceeded to lay out the problem. “Doctor, my friend was a Sith lord. He helped raise me when Obi Wan was gone. I spent nights at his house!” Anakin swallowed down and watched the doctor’s expression shift to horrified. “He was my friend and my mentor and I just found out he’s a Sith lord with plenty of evidence and I…I haven’t even started to react. What’s wrong with me? I feel numb and sick but beyond that I’m not getting anything.” 

“Anakin,” Dr. Tani took a deep breath and blew it out. “What?”

“He raised me! He helped me through ever single problem I’ve ever had with…” Skywalker paused and began shifting through his memories. He began to wonder what exactly a Sith wanted to do with a Jedi. What a Sith would want with the Jedi’s chosen one…. “Oh force!”

“Anakin?” 

“He was grooming me.” Confused by the whiplash confusion of the conversation and having little to no background on the situation, Dr. Tani settled for looking blandly interested. “He was grooming me for the dark side! I just know he was. I’m not sure…I…” Anakin swayed were he stood and plopped onto his bed. A moment later he buried his head in his hands and began to cry. Since something was obviously going on with Skywalker, Dr. Tani leaned away and pondered what exactly to do. He didn’t know, he couldn’t know just how betrayed the Jedi was feeling. To know that his oldest friend was a Sith. A Sith was sitting among the Jedi and controlling their every move. A Sith who had been preparing him for the Darkness, knowing that Anakin would never find any stability in the Jedi. A Sith who knew every one of his secrets. Dr. Tani could not know that Anakin had been shaken to the very core of his being by this revelation. Anakin Skywalker slid partly off his bed to bury his face in the fabric, weeping. 

He couldn’t form coherent words or thought. Stringing together ideas of existence were hard, too hard. His breaths came in great heaving gasps, lungs struggling to deliver oxygen under such heavy stress. Blood roared in his ears, his heart pounded. His entire frame was wracked with painful sobs as the whole of what Palpatine had done to him began to settle in. 

#$#$

“A little further south.” General Villa commanded, “Less wind exposure.” 

“Yes, General.” 

“Strip them if you must, armor and weapons. Everything, they’ll be given new clothes when our new ships arrive.” 

“Yes, General.” 

“Do you have anything to add, clones?” Waxer and Boil shifted just enough to look the gold twi’lek in the eyes. She was standing a few steps above them with her eyepiece at a spot in the distance. The pleasantly bland expression on her face did nothing to alleviate the concern in their hearts. 

“Err, what about housing and stuff?” Boil finally asked when there seemed to be no help from his partner. “If it’s a P.O.W. camp we need…places to sleep, right?”

“I still have yet to decide to keep you alive.” Boil swallowed hard, holding the girl closer and wondering if it was too late for a last request or even if he qualified. Villa didn’t glance back at them when she turned about and moved down the steps. Her officers and aides parted before her. “Where is Windu?’

“Sensor reports that he’s scrambling with contingent of soldiers to find a place to hold out until support arrives. Its twenty klicks out of what used to be the capital city.”

“How many men does he have?”

“Estimated to have only fifteen left, the ambushes have thinned his ranks.” The dark-skinned human glanced at Waxer and Boil before tearing his eyes away. 

“Set up a communication with him, back at camp.”

“Aye, General.” General Villa swept past the two clones. Her coat flared out when she turned the corner about a rock and vanished. Both clones swallowed and moved just a little closer to one another while they were escorted along behind. Boil looked at the little sleeping toddler, feeling his chest tighten. She hadn’t asked for this fight, this war, she hadn’t wanted any of this. He wondered what life had been like before the whole war had started. Before the Jedi and the Clones and the droids had descended on her planet what had it been like? He clutched the girl closer, his heart thudding. 

Eventually the party of Separatists thinned and then combined with a much larger camp. Large tents were standing atop the dry dust, some of them oddly ornate with flags fluttering from pole at the top. He didn’t recognize any of the designs. Clones did need to understand much about cultures after all. Still, he was educated enough to know that it meant that Villa was important in more place than one. The twi’lek vanished into what looked like the command tent and the clones were forced to stand beside another tent with more droids keeping guards. 

Inside the tent, Villa was waiting for her conversation with Windu. The Jedi was probably paranoid that she would use it as a trap. She would, on normal occasion. This was not a normal occasion, this needed special handling.  
“Windu,” She greeted the instant the Jedi’s form materialized. The Jedi looked beat straight to the lowest level of the Corellian hell with blood sluggishly oozing from a cut on his collar bone.   
He visibly started when he took in her appearance. 

“General.” He waited for a name, she gave him nothing.

“Your forces are scattered, your men captured or dead. You have the option to surrender or you will be destroyed. There is no escape, not a single ship will leave this planet until I have possession of you and your lightsaber. Your choice is clear but if it is not then I will make it. For every hour you remain at large then your men will suffer. How? I will leave that to your imagination but I assure you that I have not advanced my army and navy so far on outdated ideals like mercy and kindness.” 

Mace Windu said nothing and finally bowed after a moments deliberation. “I will surrender, General. If you give word that my men with me will not be harmed and none will be hurt in the time that I take to surrender myself.”

“So long as you remain loyal to your word,” Villa rasped and gestured sharply for an aide. A moment later Waxer was shoved into the room and to his knees. His bright eyes focused on General Windu, sparking with fear as Villa produced a blaster and pressed it to his temple. “Look into his eyes, Jedi, and know that if you return from your word and attempt any of resistance after this recorded surrender then he will be the first of many to die.” Waxer trembled but remained silent, staring at Mace Windu and finally looking down at the dirt, there was nothing for him to and nothing for him to say. 

“I will need two hours, my men are injured.” 

“Move yourself to the nearest contingent of my troops, leave yours. I will send medics and evac teams for them when I have you in custody.” Villa’s dark tone brooked no argument and Windu struggled visibly with reaching a final agreement. “Know, Windu, that I have more men of your in my custody then you have of mine. I well know that your Order considers these clones little more than meat clankers and how little you value their lives. You have an hour.” She gestured for the line to be cut and turned to Waxer. “Do you think he will show?”

“We’re bred to die,” Waxer rasped.

“You don’t have to be.” 

“I….” He swallowed heavily and flexed his hands against the cuffs. “He’ll come.” 

“Hmm. Remove him; take him to his partner and the girl. Take care of them.” 

“Take care of us?” Waxer screeched, as he was snagged by two enormous droids and hauled from the room. “What do you mean? He’d coming, he is coming! I know it! You can’t!” 

Villa didn’t bother to respond. Waxer was shoved from the text, spitting and cursing and begging in one breath. He was not escorted to his brother or the kid; the droids dragged him across the rocky Ryloth dirt until they had reached an isolated section of the camp. Here a fire was buried in a pit next to a small tent and an enormous boulder with blaster marks splintering the face. Waxer screamed and was still screaming when he was thrown through the tent flap and at the feet of a confused medic. As soon as he registered the boots and the medics badge the clone swallowed down his cries and winced. “Um.” 

“Are you done screaming?” A bad was produced and Waxer picked himself off the ground and brushed dirt off his hands and clothes. 

“She said to take care of us I thought…” 

“If the general wants you dead you’ll be dead. She doesn’t play with words.” Boil waved from the cot he was sitting on carefully spooning food into Numa’s mouth. Her small hands were bandaged and splinted along with a large white wrapping around her head and lekku. “You’re Waxer?” 

“Uh, yes, sir.”

“Sit down there. I’ll be taking a look at you.” 

“Uh, yes, sir.” Waxer took the cot opposite his brother and allowed the doctor to look him over. When he was pronounced to have no serious injuries and handed a bowl of hot soup, the medic left. 

“Do you know what’s going on?” Boil asked even as he made a face at the little girl. She giggled. 

“The General’s surrendering and….I don’t know much else.” 

Boil looked like he wanted to talk more but the thought of the tent being bugged was enough to keep him quiet. “Did you at least as the General if she’d look for Numa’s parents?” 

“I…” Waxer considered all that had happened and shrugged, “There wasn’t time.” 

“Alright.” Boil continued to spoon the soup into Numa’s mouth, taking care not to spill it. “Have some, best thing I’ve had. It’s not rations. I don’t know what a seppie general is doing not feeding her troops box rations but I’m pretty happy.”

“Yeah,” Waxer sipped the broth and winced. “Oh, that’s spicy.”

“I like the flavor. It’s real, actually real flavor it’s not artificial or synthetic; really kicks your system doesn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” eyes watering and faced scrunched up, Waxer continued to slurp the meal.   
“And it’s hot. Hot food!”

“A nice last meal,” Waxer pointed out and his brother blanched. 

“Right.” 

Later that night, while guards patrolled outside the tent, Waxer settled down to sleep on his cot. It wasn’t anything like the metal pods he usually slept in but he was infinitely more comfortable. He watched at Boil tucked Numa into her own cot. His brother carefully pulling the blankets up to her chin and grinning wildly down at her. Numa snuggled into her blanket shyly and buried her face in her pillow as best she could with all of her bandages. 

“Go to bed, you idiot.” Waxer grumbled and his brother shrugged. 

“Don’t you think we should escape?” The shadow a patrolling soldier cast on their tent pauses just long enough for them to know that they were listening. Waxer shook his head.

“Go to sleep.” Waxer ordered and turned over in his cot and pulled his blanket over his head. A few minutes later he fell asleep to the sound of Boil’s breathing. 

#$#$#$3

Anakin did not feel well. He had already been sick a few times this morning, losing his breakfast and lunch. His hands and legs shook with the tell-tale signs of dehydration. Sweat drenched his clothes, holding them close to his skin and freezing him in place. Unmoving, Anakin continued to slump against his bed and stared blankly at the blanket beneath him. Its pattern swam in and out of focus. 

“Anakin?” Caleb had entered at some point, carefully making his way into the room. “Anakin.” The blank expression on his face didn’t waver when the small Jedi tilted his head to the side. The confused and frightened sheen in Dume’s eyes sharpened. “ANAKIN! Dr. Tani! Come quick! Something’s wrong with Anakin!” He knew he ought to be moving, speaking or doing something. All range of motion failed him, all thought failed him. Anakin slipped into a comfortable haze that had nothing to do with any of the pain killers he’d been given. His entire body went numb and then every sort of anchor he had on his mind vanished. He watched thedoctor valiantly try to rouse him through an objective, uninterested lens. More people came into his room, Caleb started crying at one point, and he only watched. When his eyes slid shut, Anakin found himself still settled on the floor and the bed. 

Oddly enough he could see his body laid out on his bed, the doctor scanning him frantically. Hondo had escorted a sobbing Caleb from the room. It was weird even for him and since no one could seem to see him, Anakin stood up and tried to touch his physical body. Something stopped him. Anakin pressed against his own bicep and grimaced when something blue and sharp sparked under his hand and pushed him back a few inches. 

“Huh.” Dr. Tani pried and eye open and shone a light on the pupil. It dilated so it meant he was alive at least. Since he really wasn’t inclined to do anything else, Anakin wandered out of the house. He walked around aimlessly and eventually found himself sitting in the middle of the field connected to the Black’s main house. 

It was peaceful here, the wind gusted the trees and tall grass about in a fine, spirited dance. Even if he couldn’t feel it he could still hear the deep rushing noises and the distant thundering of the enormous river that Caleb had been begging to go swimming in. Life surrounded him on all sides, from the slightest bacteria in the air to the enormous elopie beast that was lounging in a clearing in the distant. 

All at once Anakin felt connected to each and everything on the planet, feeling their heartbeats and electrical rhythms and patterns. He could feel the blood in their veins, the very essence of their souls. The insint to hunt and stalk, the desire to flee and protect, the mysteries and the joys, everything on the Black flowed into his mind in a heavy wave that dragged even deeper down. 

It was only an instant but it was every second of time. He could see the pups of a transplanted loth-rat rambling in their den, Caleb sobbing into a blue pillow, the faint sensation of grass growing upward. 

“Anakin.” Blankly, only partly overwhelmed by the entire situation, Anakin noticed the person in front of him. It was not Qui-Gon Jinn like the voice had initially lent him to believe. They were different. Glowing blue and standing in front of Anakin with something that seemed sad etched into the deeply lined face. “Anakin.” 

“I don’t know you.” He blinked but otherwise didn’t move. Whoever it was they were registering oddly. Overwhelming his sense with crackling energy and soothing the grayed and frayed edges of his frantic mind at the same time. With a voice liked thunder, the stranger spoke again.

“I have always been with you, Anakin.”

“Who are you?” Somewhere he found the strength to demand an answer; somewhere he found the energy to look the man in the eyes. Anakin nearly collapsed into a nebula, a worm-hole, and a sun at the same time. There was no color, only a blaze of gold. His faced was carved from stone and stars, hyperspace lanes sunk into the wrinkles and planets in the freckles. Life curled from his head and death hung from his jawline. Transfixed by the golden gaze; Anakin could not see the rest of him. “What are you?”

“You are hurting,” thunder boomed, fire lined each word and the strength of the tides formed them.

“I am always hurting.” Anakin replied automatically, falling into his usual habits. His eyes fell to the robes sewn of space and embroidered with starlight. The stranger certainly looked humanoid enough to not be frightening but in his robes Anakin could see pod of purgill preparing for a hyperspace jump. 

“Yes.” 

“What do you want?”

“To speak.”

“Right.” Anakin rubbed his head and looked away. 

“It is not accident that you can see me like this. Any other being would be vaporized in an instant, even Yoda.” 

“Why?”

“I am…your father, young Anakin. I am the Force, at least, a small portion of focused energy of my being. Still, it is enough to destroy my own creations. My magnitude is not to be taken lightly.”

Denying the truth would be impossible. He knew, on a very primitive level that this being could never lie to him, would never lie to him. Even armed with this knowledge Anakin had no idea what to do. He had never had a father before.

“What do you want?” Anakin settled back onto the grass and stretched out. His hands folded over his stomach and he closed his eyes Yoda would be scandalized. He had the living force speaking directly to him and he was planning on ignoring everything out of his mouth. 

“To speak to you,” A planet settled next to him, a deep orbit pulling him in and down. Anakin got the distinct sense that a violent hurricane of an effort went into making his father’s chosen body seem less frightening than it ought to be. His eyes cracked open just enough to see the living force settle in a cross-legged pose next to him. Anakin shivered, there was too much light and too much dark. Stars were born and died in the folds of his clothes in a single instant, suns dissolved star systems and millions were birthed. He could feel everything and nothing which focused into a brilliant ache of pain that jolted down his spine when a hand forged from the ice of Hoth settled on his head. “You have been in great pain.”

“Yes.” 

“The sith lord.”

Anakin squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. “I…everything. I can’t handle it anymore. It’s too much. I don’t want. They’re offering me a crew and ship and a chance to get rid of slavers, a whole opportunity to do what I’ve wanted to. I just can’t.” 

“I see.” The living force patted his head carefully. 

“What are you doing here anyway?” Anakin wondered, keeping his eyes on the grass beside his head. 

“I have created all that is, all that was, and all that will be. I have forged the very souls of sentients but I have never been a father. I was unaware of how to proceed.” 

“Really?” Anakin snorted and rolled onto his side, tucking his arms around his chest and ignoring his companion. 

“Anakin.” 

“I’m tired, too tired to deal with this.” He knew Obi Wan would be scandalized and didn’t much care. All he wanted was some sleep.

“I will be here when you return.” Anakin didn’t give much thought to the words and instead slipped into nothing.

#$#$

“Is he going to be alright?” Caleb Dume had taken nearly three hours to calm down but had finally scurried back into Anakin’s room. Dr. Tani was still leaning over the older Jedi’s prone form with a scanner. “What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know, son.” Dr. Tani leaned back and rubbed his forehead, groaning. “Did you sense anything odd?”

“Just, like he was going blank but he always feels like a storm. One you can’t survive, a big one or a monster that eats starships and stars. Anakin is not like other jedi he’s bigger.”

“Bigger?” 

“Yeah.” Caleb rubbed his nose, “Bigger. The masters wouldn’t tell us why but everyone knew something was…different. Big and scary but sometimes so…not that it was hard to tell if he was even real. He was kind though. Lots kinder than the others and sometimes just seeing him smile made you feel better.”

“How does he feel right now?” Dr. Tani swallowed when the light green eyes filled with tears again. 

“He feels empty.” 

“Empty?” Caleb brushed his face with his sleeve and nodded. “What kind of empty?”

“Like, he’s not even in there anymore.” The younger human ducked his head into the bed at Anakin’s side, fisting his hands into the blankets. “He’s gone!”

“He’s not dead though, his vitals are steady but…there’s really no reason he should be like this.” He shook his head again, “We’ll have to wait and see, Caleb. This could be a…journey of the soul.”

“A what?” Caleb looked up, a careful hope in his eyes.

“Well, there are a lot of stories around this sort of thing, my own homeworld has more than a few.” 

“What is it?” 

“Well,” The doctor looked deeply uncomfortable and finally shrugged. “It’s usually for a warrior or a king or anyone who has reached a serious divide in their life. They have to go on a journey, it can be the force or it can be a spirit world. There they find the answer they need, probably not the one they wanted. Um, since there isn’t really a medical reason why Skywalker should be in a coma-like state then…perhaps that’s what has happened.”

“Really! Wow! Do you think so?”

“Well,” Tani looked for an answer that might make the distraught former-padawan happy. “Yes, I do. Anakin Skywalker is on…a journey.” Personally, he wasn’t so sure but he wasn’t going to ruin Caleb’s excitement.


	6. Chapter 6

Ahsoka had been banished to kitchen cleaning duty after her outburst in the senate. Obi Wan had been uncharacteristically unforgiving of her considering the various fits she'd seen him ignore from Anakin. Still, she was left to the grouchy cooks and droids that ran that kitchens. Subject to their whims and orders and suffering the eternal indignity of serving meals to the younglings. It continued until Obi Wan sent a trembling initiate to her with a message she was be re-assigned to a new master. When she followed the directions she was only slightly cheered up to find herself outside Plo Koons room. His attached padawan rooms were designed for oxygen breathers, not methane ones. His room was sealed and air-locked for her protection. 

"Little 'soka." 

"Hey, Master Plo." She set her bags down in the nearly empty hallway and bowed. "I'm reporting as ordered."

"Of course," he said warmly, "I will make you tea. It will have to be in your rooms because my are all designed for a kel-dor. "Come, come. I just picked up this new brand from the City Market I think you would enjoy." 

"Alright. Master? Do you know where Master Kenobi went? He hasn't talk to me since he gave me kitchen duty." She dropped her bag within the room and frowned. It was homey and comfortable with a confusing blend of different styles. The couch looked like it had been smuggled in and was draped in a few blankets and drowning in pillows. An overstuffed armchair was jammed beneath the enormous window with a equally cushy but not matching ottoman. The floor was covered in an ornate rug and a few dozen pieces of different art hung from the walls. "What...are you sure this is the right room?"

"Of course," Plo moved into a small room off to the side which turned out to be an equally homey kitchen. "I am several centuries old and have had many padawans. Many of them made adjustments to the rooms when they lived here." 

"But I thought it wasn't allowed?"

"Like how your master kept his room cluttered and messy?"

"Well, yeah." Ahsoka sighed and wondered if someone had gotten around to removing all of Skyguys things from his rooms. 

"I...am attached to my padawans styles." Plo assured her, "I would not mind if you added whatever style you wanted to the rooms. They are yours and anticipate you living in them for a long while."

"I thought they would kick me out," Ahsoka said and looked away when the Kel-dor turned around quickly. "I've always had problems with attachments and focusing. They weren't going to make me a padawan except that the war got started and Sky...Master Skywalker was assigned me." 

"Then they would have made a foolish mistake, little one." Plo set his tea pot on the stove and turned it on. "You are not only well skilled but you possess great wisdom." 

"I'm not as good Bariss," the togruta took one of the tall, spinney seats at the table and leaned down on her elbows. "She's the best padawan. I went on a mission with her and she was so focused and so good. I could tell she was a great padawan. She never argued with her master or tried to argue with her. I...I didn't do the same and Master Kenobi told me after that that I couldn't keep shaming my master like that." 

"Shaming?" Plo Koon's deep voice seemed to reverberate through her montreals as it took a rather stern edge. 

"Yeah, by arguing with him in public. He told me its only okay if you're around people you really know." She drooped further onto the table. Plo Koon turned back around and focused intently on the tea strainer and the tea cup. 

"Ahoska, my little one." His shoulder slumped and he turned around. Very carefully he lifted her head up to look him in his masked eyes. "I did not know Anakin Skywalker well. I had little to do with his training and I spent little time with him outside of missions. However, listen well when I tell you. You could have never done anything to shame him. Never, no matter how your argued and disagreed could you have ever done what Obi Wan suggested."

"But." She felt the familiar and humiliating burn of tears in her eyes. She hadn't been able to stop crying. She'd cried into everything in the last few weeks. "But he said."

"Ahsoka, I am Master Kenobi's senior in many ways. I understand the truest relationship between a teacher and a student." 

There was no stopping the tears now; Ahsoka wasn't sure there had ever been. "I can't...I was with Padme. I told her and..." Her shoulders shook and when she closed her eyes tears spilled over. Still, she didn't move herself from Plo's increasingly gentle grasp. "I loved my him. I loved him so much. He was more than just a teacher to me." Unable to look him the eyes, Ahsoka kept her own closed. "I can't do what they want me to! I can't just give him up and pretend he never lived. I couldn't just box it all up and give it up to the Force. I...." Her cries deepened into sobs. "I can't just let go like the masters want me to." 

"Ahsoka!"

"Do you know why they assigned me to kitchen duty?" Ahsoka cried, tearing herself free and waving her arms around desperately. Plo Koon edged around the table, tea abandoned. "Do you know why he was so mad? Why they were all mad? I got attached. Again, I got attached!" Plo Koon had seen any number of his padawans face significant life-problems and he held each memory close. Seeing Ahsoka falling to pieces because she had no idea how to manage her emotions was heart breaking. Her pain radiated through the Force, along with her shame and humiliation. She had been running through a maze under absolute direction and control for so long that her confused curiosity about the other halls had lead her into wholly unfamiliar territory. "I told her." 

"Ahsoka." 

"I told her he was like my father!" Ahsoak burst, yelling loudly and staring desperately up at him. The shameful secret now bared; Ahsoka seemed to curl in on herself. Her voice was softer, trembling. Tears began to dot the table beneath her head. "I told the Senator that he was like me father. I'v never had one before." Her next breath shuddered, "I've always wondered. Even if I didn't know I guessed he would be one. He would be the best and he was mine and now he's gone. He's gone and its not fair! It's not fair at all! I don't know what to do now! I can't just...I miss him so much it hurts. I wanted to see him again! Its not fair. He just got executed and I don't...I didn't even say bye when he left for his last mission!" Trembling with the last of her energy and self-control she slumped in her seat. "I can't be a good Jedi. I know I keep failing every time they give me a chance. Master Skywalker was my last chance." 

"You are here with me." 

"And did you...did you really want me or did you do this just 'cause Yoda told you to?" Ahsoka curled further around herself, crying. "It's not fair!"

"Oh, youngling." Plo Koon carefully shifted his arms enough to envelope the crying togruta. Her forehead rested against his shoulder and she shook under the heavy sobs that wracked her frame. There was nothing tasteful or graceful to say at the moment. Nothing that would be fair for the lost padawan to hear. So he held her gently and allowed her to cry as much as she needed. 

@$#$#$

Anakin was not alive. He was not dead. He stood somewhere between infinity and nothing. A being of unfathomable size or a grain of sand in the middle of a storm. He clung to the banks of the river and was the river. Unsure if he was drowning in the water or the water itself he grasped onto the first tangible thread of existence. Gasping, he was hauled out of the whirlpool and pulled into an all encompassing embrace. 

"Anakin." Impressions solidified, sliding around in his befuddled brain until the universe settled into something like order. He at least had his body back. Well, he was going to guess it was his body. It felt like his body. He had two arms, two legs and a head. He could feel impressions on his arms and his shoulders and back; as if someone was holding him. "Anakin."

"Did I die?" Anakin blearily opened his eyes to see the folds of the universe bunched under his hands. 

"No, my son." Fingers of trees ran gently through his hair, teasing out the tangles and smoothing it out. 

"I feel dead," his eyes slid shut. He leaned his head against the approximation of a shoulder. "Where am I?"

"You are with me. Anakin Skywalker." 

"Where are we?"

"Nowhere...and everywhere. It is difficult to explain but we are...non-being." 

"Alright." Bone-deep weariness that has sucked out his energy seemed to peel away, bit by bit, under the gentle hand on his head. "That's new." 

"You said you needed a break, a moment to breath. I allowed it but perhaps too much. You were stuck in a loop of memories."

"It was all the times that I've talked to Palpatine." 

"Yes." There was something unbelievable comforting about the voice that echoed over his shoulder. Not just that it was the thunder rolling between mountains or the collective noises of hundreds of ships taking off. It was so warm it wormed it way into the dark, lonely sections of his brain. So bright it began to burn away at the Darkness clinging there. Anakin clenched his eyes shut, bracing himself against the pain by holding tighter to his anchor. 

"He's a Sith Lord." Truth was absolute here. Anakin didn't know if he could lie to his father. "Did you know that?"

"Yes." His head twinged and he buried it deeper into the shoulder. Light burned even more. His gasped and felt tears prick at the edge of his eyes. "What? What about the galaxy? They want me to help them ruin his plans by introducing a wild card. A third front of the war for people to focus on."

"Indeed. Honodo Ohnaka is a clever being. A dangerous pirate as well." 

"What should I do?" 

"What you deem is wise." Another hand settled between his shoulder blades. "Your pains will still be there when you return to the world, however, I am repairing the most significant damage to your mind and body."

"What are you doing?" Even thought he hadn't known the Living Force very long, Anakin knew he gave he absolute best hugs in existence. 

"The electrical damage to your brain and nervous system. Dr. Tani was unable to repair all of it. I am fixing the rest."

"Is that why I feel?" He stifled a groan in his fathers cloak, "Why it hurts so much?" 

"Yes." Anakin whined. His brain was on fire, every limbs clenched up tight and screaming with agony. "I cannot erase pain, my son. It exists because of the fixed state of the universe. I promise you that when it ends you will be stronger for it." 

"Hnnghhh!" His hand found something substantial; an arm. He squeezed and squeezed and squeezed for he felt his jaw unhinge and an unreal scream rip from his throat. 

#$#$

Master Yoda was sunk too deeply into the Force to wretch himself away from the wave of absolute pain that broke over him; sucking him into the undertow and dragging him down, down, down. Desperate pain clawed into his sides as a broken voice begged and screamed for it to be over. Yoda could feel something, someone, sinking long nails into his robes and skin. It was agony. The worst thing he had ever felt in the Force and that included the death of his own master. 

The scream reverberated around the temple, bouncing into every mind and waking ever inhabitant up. In the creche the infants and toddlers all joined in, their voices adding their own wails and sobbing. Initiates broke down where they stood, padawans slumped onto the nearest surface in an effort to stay upright. Knights and Masters all clutched their heads. Some yelled and some fainted under the sheer effort of staying calm. Yoda was paralyzed under the screams, listening to how they bounced around the Force; dark and light. 

He did not know how to classify the anomaly. He did not know what he was listening too, none of the Jedi did. 

Chancellor Palpatine was only able to manage the first few minutes of the Force projection before he collapsed into a dead faint on the senate floor. Mother Talzin and the people of Dathomir all suffered the mind-crippling pain and collapsed where they stood. The Knights and Masters across the galaxy all dropped to the dirt/floor/table/bed/bath. Every force sensitive across the galaxy heard the screams and only a few of them were able to identify the emotions behind it. In a lonely corner of Corellia a twelve year old trying to get ready for the night broke down crying as he recognized the heart-wrenching betrayal, the loneliness of a song echoing for eternity for no one to listen to it, the sheer abandonment that crushed the boy to the ground. His parents found him a few minutes later and he was unable to articulate what he felt for several weeks. 

Caleb Dume was found collapsed onto the bed beside his new friend Anakin Skywalker. Dr. Tani was unable to anything except to tuck the boy into his own bed and pray for an answer. 

Two days later the Force users of the galaxy would be wandering around on wobbling legs, confused by what happened and asking each other the same questions. During these to days the war ground to a temporary halt. This left an opening for the Ohnaka gang to demolish the work of two more spice gangs and burn their establishments to the ground. Most of the galaxy might have ground to a halt but Honodo Ohnaka tucked her incapacitated crew into their drinking holes and wrecked merry hell before people started noticing what she was doing. 

#$#$

The light had burned every portion of his being, thawing out the cold in his mind. Too gentle, too much comfort that Anakin had not known since his mother. Gasping for breath and having at last exhausted his tears, Anakin slumped against his father, undone. His mind frittered away and was slowly brought back pieces by pieces at the continued gentle ministrations on his head. When he was pieced back together Anakin allowed himself to greedily drink in the sensations around him. 

He was being held. No, cradled by the Living Force. Enveloped in robes of starlight stitched together with hyperspace, and kissed by the essence of all. "My son? That was quiet the happening." 

"I don't know what happened."

"I imagine you frightened all of the galaxy." His brain might have gone fuzzy but it was a comfortable kind of fuzzy. It didn't scare him at all. For the first time in a long time Anakin felt comfortable and almost happy. "You were in pain and made sure the entire universe heard."

"I'm sorry," Anakin muttered into his father's shoulder. "I'm so sorry." 

"Do not ever feel the need to apologize to me, my son." A finger made entirely of kyper gently tilted his head back so he stared directly at the twin golden hollows. "Never to me, my son." 

"Father." The word was broken and pained but hopeful. "I." 

"I have you." Blue eyes slid shut until the darkness of his eyelids again formed the scene between himself and the avatar his father had built. Anakin could never look away. "I have you."


	7. Padme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryloth gets someone really useful.

The holo net broadcast of Mace Windu’s captures was the highest trending one on the holo-net for eight hours before it was overtaken by a baby loth cat. The video spelled trouble for Dooku. No one would accept Villa’s death or resignation so soon after having taken Ryloth and capturing Windu. His senate had seen fit to heap her with medals and commendations. Dooku was aware that a few of the less- intelligent of them had agreed to pay her a sizable bribe if she resumed the slaving raids and spice shipments. 

Well, if eight Senators were admitted to the med bay for suspected concussions and broken limbs? Dooku shrugged and told them to be more careful going down those tricky stairs. Still, the problem remained. Ryloth was supposed to be the kill zone. Villa was supposed to end up impaled on Windu’s blade, left to rot in the dust. Another example for the simmering pits of misogyny that called themselves the ruling government to explain why twi’lek females were inferior. 

Except that government had been blasted off the planet and the strongholds of pirates and gangsters, and mines had all been bombed. Windu had lost most of his troopers and nearly all his support vehicles. All that was left on Ryloth right now were confused twi’leks, captured clones, and rocks. 

“This,” Dooku hunched down a bit. “Is a mitigated failure. Not only have you failed to destroy Villa you have allowed this wench to capture a Jedi Council member. Mace Windu is useless to me in chains just as Anakin Skywalker is useless to me dead.” In all of his years serving Sidious he had never actually felt the man thing angry. Darkness roiled around him, sickening and violent in one. Dooku hoped that none of this would be taken out on him. 

“With the Force Song as we heard it so loud,” Dooku finally ventured, “There is little possibility that the Jedi will be holding up strongly. I sensed that there was trouble about during the Song.” 

“Your insistence to cling to Jedi teachings after having renounced them is your failing, my apprentice.” Sidious calmed down with his favored pastime of criticizing Dooku in the forefront of his mind. “They preach that the Force is sentient, alive. One with all of us. It is not. It simply is. It is a tool, mindless and obedient. If you are to be a true master of the Force then you must not allow this foolish thinking to cloud your mind.” 

“Then what do you believe happened?” Dooku ventured. 

“And earthquake swallowed a Jedi temple on Hosnian Prime. One of the original ones once the Republic was established. The force did not Sing.” He said mockingly, “It was the collective wailing of the Jedi.”

“Of course, my master.”

“You may take advantage of the Jedi’s confusion.” Palpatine leaned back in his chair. “Have Windu executed. He’s useless now.” 

“I. “Dooku’s mouth went dry as he considered just the terms that Windu had dictated before his surrender. “That will be difficult my master. It is public knowledge that Windu surrendered according to the Alderann Convention. If he were to be killed in our custody it would be disastrous for a number of reasons. Waging war per the Mandalore Treaty has gained to several allies and support on the Outer and Mid Rim. Claiming and proving that we are better than the Jedi in this respect is why their grip on Mandalore is slipping. The system can only be controlled by the pacifist fringe group for so long while the galaxy falls to war. General Villa signed the agreement. It is legal and binding.”

“The only way to have Windu executed was if he broke prisoner parole?” 

“Yes, Master.” Dooku paused, “That may be difficult to manufacture. His men are held as hostages against him.”

“I am sure you will manage, my apprentice.” The Sith waved him off. “Destroy the Jedi Master. Destroy the twi’lek.” The feed cut off nearly a second later leaving Dooku in a whirlwind of surprise. He blinked a few times and then frowned at the empty holo-device. 

How was he supposed to have them both killed? Villa was dangerous and brilliant. Her mind locked down; her temper simmering just below the surface. Ruthless cunning in a very intimidating package and with so much of the war already leaning towards the Republic he’d take anything he could get. Windu would die, that much he knew. He didn’t care how or when or even why. If Mace Windu was dead then so much the better for him. 

Count Dooku did not want to lose General Villa. He hoarded her brilliance jealously even if his master didn’t or wouldn’t. She would be the mightiest commander in modern galactic history. He would see to it that she have every change to prove it. 

#$#$

Hera Syndulla leaned away from her mother just enough to catch a glimpse of the other twi’lek her father was speaking to. Enormous, was the first word that came to mind. Big in a way the most twi’lek women weren’t. Tall and solid, a deep burnished gold with several tattoos across her lekku and exposed wrists. Her clothes were a bland tan and brown accompanied with several blasters attached at her hips a blade that hung from her shoulder. It was odd to see her father so deferent to anyone, let alone a woman. She knew he wasn’t as bad as most of the men she met but he still aggravated her mother often. 

Of course, he listened to her mother when she exuded the same air of impending violence.

“No, the clones remain, unharmed.” Hera grumbled when her mother shooed her back behind her. “They are protected by my word.” 

“General Villa,” Her father began, “Surely that this would.” 

“I will excuse your gross lack of understanding of how honor words given your upbringing this once, Syndulla, and your apparent inability to comprehend galactic politics.” General Villa interrupted. “Just once. Take heed. Educate yourself before I feel the urge to rid this dusty rock of your particular brand of stupidly applied and foolishly understood intentions.” 

“General.” 

“The clones will not be harmed. I will leave them here.” 

“Ryloth.” 

“You and I well know that Ryloth is a festering pit of filth and corruption. I have done your underground operations a favor by removing the stain permanently. If I see the need to do so again then I will, Syndulla.”

“My men and I have worked for years to free Ryloth from the oppression of the gangsters and slavers.”

“Years, perhaps.” Hera shivered and felt the child-like urge to hide her face in her mother’s stomach. General Villa’s amber eyes, the color of the dying sun, set on Aleco Syndulla. “But not generations.” 

“I do not understand.” Cham Syndulla said.

“I’m not surprised.” Villa tilted her scarred head at Aleco. “What do you think?”

“I did not think this was possible.” Hera looked between the two older twi’leks. “To have a chance of truly free Ryloth.”

“I simply did what was needed.” General Villa cast a stare down to Hera. 

“You killed so many.” Her watched her mother cover her mouth with her hand. 

“I did and I’m offering you their positions of leadership. You appointed as governor.” Cham made a noise of astonishment only to be silenced by the threatening moving of the two droid bodyguards. “I need someone effective with communication, logistics, underhanded foolishness and a network of loyal friends.” 

Hera listened to her mother’s voice swell with emotions and she said thickly, “I believe I qualify .”

“Good. Find someone to be your senator. Chose some bodyguards and be prepared to make a planet-wide broadcast.”

“Of course, General.” The aspiring pilot leaned away from her mother and stared with wide eye at the oldest twi’lek woman she’d ever seen. 

“What about Papa?”

“What about him?”

“He wants to help.” 

“He can help by being supportive and you, Hera Syndulla, what do you want to do to help?”

“I want to be a pilot.” She said, puffing out her chest and nodding fiercely “I will be the best Starfighter pilot in the galaxy.” 

“As the last person to hold that title is now very dead I expect that it might happen eventually. Best of luck to you.” General Villa saluted her mother and then gave Cham a brusque nod. “You know what to do Governor Aleco. I trust to receive favorable reports from my men.” Then the gold general was gone and so were her droids. 

#$#$#

Honodo Ohnaka cackled happily as she considered the newest additions to her fleet. Spice runners were so predictable and stupid that it was a miracle that the authorities had not caught them all yet. Also the fact that the authorities weren’t really looking for spice runners. 

“How long until reconstruction is done on the corvette?” She demanded from th engineer the was quietly smoking behind her. 

“Two months, tops. Weapons refitting curtesy of the Republic. New hyper drive from the Seppies and a refit of the hull and she’ll be ready to fly. Partly automated.” 

“Excellent, and the fighters?” 

“Three weeks and a couple days give or take. You still need pilots.” 

“I have pilots.” Honodo rubbed her hand together gleefully. “I have ships. Where is our shipment of Kuat shipyard materials?”

“Coming in, we jacked it a few days back.” He blew a ring of smoke at her. “have to erase all of the serial codes and anti-theft measures but it’ll be ready to install around the asteroid with the other stuff when it gets here.” The smaller moon of Black had been a sucking vacuum of dry dust until Honodo had begun the construction of a make-ship ship-yard over a hundred years ago. With her newest venture picking up speed and manpower she’d decided to give the complex a proper upgrade. “We’ve also got too many workers. Not enough shifts to go around.” 

“That’s fine, there will be other work for our people to get to.” She waved him off. “Send me the reports when it comes through and installation begins.” 

“Aye, boss.” The weequay man hadn’t moved from his spot but gave sort of a wave that would have to pass for a greeting. 

Honodo landed back on the Black a few hours later after having reviewed the growing shipyard. It would never be the size of the Mon Cal or Kuat ones but it would service her. Her mind buzzed with data and information as she parsed through her reports. 

“What happened on Ryloth?” The room that used to be her living room was now a busy war room. Pirates and scum hurried around the enormous holo-table in the center. Hondo shrugged from the table and held out a glass of amber liquid. 

“General Villa spanked Windu. He’s now a prisoner of the Seppies!”

“She survived a suicide mission.” Honodo took the glass and frowned at the video of Windu’s escort to a prison speeder. “This is interesting.” 

“Whatever happened to the Jedi gave us a leg up.” One of the only human men in the room spoke up. He was a reed thin accountant with a brilliant mind for embezzling schemes and general banking crimes. “They lost a temple on Hosnian Prime. All over the local papers. I’ve already set up a fake donation account for them.” 

“Well?” 

“The temple was empty and Hosnian Prime is full of suckers.” The human shrugged. “We’ve made a good chunk of cash already funneling into the Hapan account.” 

“Excellent. “

“No report on what the hell happened.” Dr. Tani shoved himself into the room. A rodian pirate moved to let him stand at the stable. “Whatever took out the force sensitives is still on lock down by the Jedi. They aren’t talking.” 

“Dooku said nothing either.” Someone joined in. “Intel is spotty.” 

“It is good we have a Force person here.” She waved off the other concerns. “When Skywalker wakes he will tell us. For now, tell me where the Seppie and the Republic lines are. They must have changed.” 

The holo gram spun to reveal a new version of the galaxy. Lines of blue and purple were crisscrossed and entire sections of universe were lit up in yellow and green. “Here sits the Republic,” she waved to the yellow. “Ugly and having just lost Skywalker and Ryltoh they are in a mess. With the Separatist 10th Fleet now in for repairs Villa has taken command of the 5th. We’ve gotten reports that Villa is appointing Aleco Syndulla to serve as the planetary governor.” 

“The Republic is planning a public funeral for Orn Free Taa.”

“I wasn’t aware they could have scraped together enough of him for a funeral.” Tani grumbled. He’d seen the stolen Republic intelligence reports as well. “And who misses Taa?”

“Hmm,” Honodo glanced to her son. “Hondo! Make yourself useful. There is a shipment of Kyber crystals that are heading from Illum for the Jedi Temple. Board it and steal what crystals are available, scare the crew.”

“Alright, and?”

“Have your splicer plan a little bug on the droids and on the ship. We need intel.” 

“A good plan, Mama.” 

“As yet we do not have plans for the Seppies. They are not our interest but we will find their work getting in our way one away. Keep Dooku fully occupied with the Jedi. He must be their focus.” Honodo leaned on her elbows. “Now, as for the next phase.” 

#$#$#’

Padme paced around her room, hands wringing and stressed. 

“Maybe it is stress, milady.” Dorme said carefully, not wanting to aggravate the already grieving senator. 

“I know stress, Dorme.” Padme sighed and then turned around to watch the medic working through the files and test readings. The medic didn’t even look back at her. “This is not stress.” 

“You’re going to be stressed.” The medic stood and shrugged a bit, “You’re pregnant.”

“I.” Padme stopped moving, she stopped breathing, she only stared and her hands slowly going towards her mouth and then reversing direction toward her stomach. “Oh.” With a faint gasp, she toppled backwards into the astonished arms of her handmaiden. 

“Handmaiden Dorme, do you need me to stay?”

“No thank you, medic. I’ll handle it.” Dorme lifted the woman back to her bed and set her across the mattress. As the medic packed up and left for parts unknown Padme sighed and opened her eyes.

“Dorme?” 

“Milady.” She leaned over the woman. Dark circles had grown under her eyes which were dull and hooded. She seemed too tired and too old while she was so young. 

“I. I’m pregnant.”

“Yes, milday.” 

“My husband is dead.” Padme closed her eyes and looked to the distant city-line, tears tracked down her cheeks. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. Everything is falling apart.” Padme took a deep breath and collected herself after her momentary despair. “We hide this as long as possible. Bring the medic back in two week. We need to research the best pre-natal care that we can.”

“Milady.” 

“We need to,” Padme moved to sit up and settled back onto her bed. “I need a moment.” 

“Do you want me to wait outside?”

“No,” Padme grasped her hand, “Please, stay with me.” 

“Always, milady.” 

#$#$#

“Your friends have made some impressive steps forward in their mission for profit.” Anakin’s father said, patting his hair gently. 

“I’m not surprised.” The former Jedi’s head was in lap and he was sprawled across lightyears of time and space that looked like a grassy hill from his point of view. He felt weightless, comfortable and not really willing to move. He hadn’t felt this sort of affection since his mother had died. “Honodo is a Boss of a pirate gang.”

“Yes, she is.” The Force stopped patting for a moment and Anakin whined. “Do you intend to follow her?” 

“She’s got a plan to destroy the Hutts and to free slaves. I’m interested.” Anakin cracked a blue eye open and then blinked lazily. “You are a woman now.”

“Maintaining an avatar with the same features is…not in my nature.”

“Okay.” 

“You know you cannot stay here forever, my son.” Anakin sighed and nodded. “You will join me one day.”

“You’ll be with me? Won’t you?” He hated how childish it sounded, Torture, pain and death were problems he could grit through and survive but the first sign of gentleness or kindness and he was an idiot puddle. 

“Always, my son. Look to me and you will have my support.” She gazed at him with such softness and affection his eyes began to water. 

“Is my mother alright?” 

“She is.” The woman visibly paused, “She is very proud of you, Anakin.”

“Can I?”

“Not yet, my son. Not until you have reached your end as well.”

“Are you take care of her?”

“She is a Lady of the Force. Entire legions of servants are at her disposal.” 

“Is she lonely. Mom always takes care of people. She needs people to talk to.”

“She has no want for company.” 

Anakin stared up at the fathomless being that held him so carefully. He listened to his own heartbeat, moving water and nations with every pulse. Eventually he nodded. “I’m ready to go back.” 

“As you wish.” They both stood and Anakin found himself in his room on the Black. He could see his body covered with a blanket and Caleb Dume sleeping half slumped over the bed. “Before I.” Anakin turned around to look at the Force, “Before I go will you tell her something for me? Will you tell her I’m sorry? I’m sorry I didn’t save her and for what I did and…please tell her I’m sorry.”

“I will convey your message, my son.” 

“Thank you, Father.” Admitting he had a father was a new and dumbfounding experience every time he said the words. There weren’t words to explain how it made him feel. There wasn’t time for him to say anything either as the avatar pushed him gently in the chest and a second later Anakin was sitting upright in bed, gasping. 

Where the Force had been standing, he saw the faintest impression of its avatar before it vanished. The room dimmed somewhat when it left but Anakin felt with absolute certainty that he was still being watched. 

“ANAKIN!” He fell back to the pillows when Caleb tacked him. A lapful of sobbing former padawan later told him all he needed to know. 

“You’ve been out for days! We don’t know anything that’s happened or what’s wrong but you were just GONE! Even your…force sense was gone! I couldn’t feel you anywhere!” 

“Caleb.” His whole body hurts but he wraps the teen in a hug as much as he’s able. “ Caleb.”

“I missed you so much!” The boy cried into his chest. Footsteps sound outside the door and it slams open to revealed a panicked and startled Dr. Tani. 

“Skywalker.”

“Hello, Doctor.” 

“Caleb, get off of him!” The doctor ordered and tried and failed to pull Caleb off him. “Caleb.” 

“He said I’ve been out for a while.” 

“Yes,” The doctor looked grave, “Almost two weeks. It’s made life a little tense around here.” Caleb continued to cry, keeping a death grip on Anakin. “Caleb, I can’t check on him if you keep holding onto him.” 

“It’s alright.” Anakin feels as if his head is in a much better place than it ever was. He feels clear, understanding and further able to process the emotions going on around him better. “I’ve got this.” With extreme care he managed to shift the teen from his front to where Caleb was tucked against his side. “Caleb?”

He didn’t respond, he was crying too hard. “Hey there, Caleb.” He let the boy cry, knowing that sometimes this was really the best choice for someone so young. “I’m right here. I’m awake right now so you can talk to me. Alright, when you’re ready just let me know.” He exchanged a glance with Dr. Tani who shrugged helplessly and waited. When Caleb did calm down enough to be coherent he was embarrassed which almost made Anakin laugh. He’d had a melt down in his father’s arms, he’d forgive the teen his cry. “Are you okay?” He asked seriously.

“Yeah.” Caleb replied wetly, still shaking with unspent sobs. “I was really worried about you. I was so scared you wouldn’t be okay and wouldn’t wake up.”

“I did wake up.” 

“I know.” Caleb didn’t move for a minute but eventually drew back to look him in the eyes. “You look different. You feel different.” 

“You are sitting on my prosthetic leg.” Anakin grinned and Caleb groaned. “But I think I get what you mean.” 

“What happened? Dr. Tani said you were going on a journey. Jedi don’t really have Force journeys so I’m not sure what it meant but it sounded important.”

“Err, something like that.” Anakin said.

“I need to examine Mr. Skywalker, Caleb.” Tani said, “Please get off of him.” Caleb looked deeply unhappy but slid off the bed and gave them both a miserable look when he was shooed from the room. “Dr. / Patient confidentiality,” Tani said. “Wait out in the hall and we’ll call you in when its safe.” 

“But.” 

“I’ll be fine, Caleb.” Anakin waved the boy out and smile when he went reluctantly. “Well, Doc?”

“He’s right.” Tani fished his scanner out of his bags. “There is something different about you.” 

“Force journey,” Anakin replied, allowing the scanner to run over him. “Strange things happen.”

“What did happen?”

“Force business,” he told him, “Go back to your drinks.”

“Hmph. Well, the readings are looking a lot better. Heart looks better, reading far more consistent electrical out puts. I want to get a deep tissue scan of you but whatever happened on your Force journey is clearly helped.” 

“I guess. You don’t seem startled.” 

“I’ve been a doctor for a long time. I know and I’ve seen enough to know that the Jedi are not all knowing when it comes to the Force.” 

“I’m a Jedi.”

“You keep telling yourself that.” Tani harrumphed impressively. “How do you feel?”

“Better, clearer.”

“Good, five days ago something happened to all the Force users in the galaxy. Dropped the order like a bunch of garbage and took out Dooku for a whole day. Did you feel it?”

“Ah…what?”

“The Jedi, got knocked over by something.” Tani raised his busy eyebrows. “They aren’t talking about it but you might know something.”

“I…I might.” Time had passed oddly when he was disconnected from his body but he guessed whatever happened had happened just around the time of his melt-down. “I’m not sure though.” 

“Well if you get sure let me know. I want to make sure that nothing hurt Caleb.” 

“I will.” Anakin promised. “Can I get up now?” 

“Yeah,” The man grunted, “Just be careful and if you feel dizzy, pained, or otherwise inconvenienced then sit down.”

“Got it.” He drew the covers back and turned to set his feet on the ground. Seeing one metal and the other flesh made him pause. “I can’t believe Grievous managed to take one of my legs.” 

“How bad was it?”

“Pretty bad. I was already a mess from my defeat but now…now I’m not sure. I feel sad but I don’t feel all of the signals in my head going off as once. Like I’ve got some space to think.” 

“Hmm.” Dr. Tani nodded when Anakin stood with a smooth motion and then grinned when the former Jedi took a few steps around the room. “Excellent. For someone who’s been in a two week long coma your muscles haven’t atrophied at all. What’s your secret?”

“My other parent is the Force.” Anakin said and grinned at the doctors dumbfounded expression. 

“Huh, well. Do you think you could make it too the kitchen?”

“Yeah.” Anakin paused, “Where is Hondo? Where is Honodo?” 

“They’re off on their money-making scheme. “

“I didn’t think revolutions could be that profitable.” 

“If you live as long as they do almost anything makes them money.”

“I remember fainting.” The reason why came back in a rush. He cringed at the memory. “I remember why?” The Shadow they had been talking about. The Sith in the Senate. It was his friend and mentor. The man who had made Anakin feel welcome during his first few years in the Jedi. Palpatine who had given Anakin so many gifts, so much advice. 

He paused. He did not feel the usual rush of affection and care for the older man. There wasn’t a sudden rise in faith for the man. Almost as if every sensation he’d had like that before hand had been artificial. For a moment he pushed that thought down with denial only to have it yanked back and pushed into his face by the Force. 

Oh. His father had burned every impression and manipulation out of his mind. Anakin had liked Palpatine. He really did never really to the extent of having such strong emotions for him. He trusted him, asked him for advice but that level of affection? Something about it was deeply disturbing. 

“Anakin?” 

“I’m fine,” he waved off the doctor’s concern and dropped back to the bed. He saw the manipulations in his head with such clarity it was almost as if he was watching from the outside. “Oh. I need to talk to Honodo.”

“She’s busy.” 

“I need to talk to her now.” Anakin stood up again and moved toward the door. 

“Skywalker.” 

“I need to talk to Honodo.” He told Caleb firmly when the boy watched him emerge into the hallway. “Could you please go get her?” 

“But you said I could hang out with you.” 

“I know. I know but I really need to talk to Honodo.” 

Caleb’s expression hardened into an angry pout but he nodded, “Fine, but I get you after dinner and you can’t complain or wriggle your way out.”

“I wouldn’t think of it.” Anakind gave him an encouraging smile and watched the kid run down the hallway and then heard him run out of the house. “Okay,” he refocused. “I need food.”

“What’s the problem, Skywalker. What do you need Boss for so soon?” 

“I just realized that she might have the information I need.” He sure hoped she did. “Where is everyone?” The house felt empty. His footsteps echoed around the hallway and bounced off the wooden ceiling. 

“Getting ready for the war effort.” 

“War?” 

“Remember? We’re going to be fighting the other gangs.”

“Right,” he shook his head and entered the kitchen. Just has he did Honodo was seen from the kitchen window. “That was fast.” When Honodo was in the room just a minute later he voiced his surprise. 

“I was already coming.” She laughed and proceeded to shoo a disgruntled doctor and padawan out of the room. “Now tell me what was so important.” 

“Do you have any archives on the Sith?” He demanded, his was leaning against the table to remain upright properly. 

“All information on the Sith was removed hundreds of years ago!” She waved her arms and looked away. “All of it, they were outlawed years ago.” 

“So you have the information?” 

“Goodness, you accuse me of illegal activity?” Anakin rolled his eyes. “Alright, I do have some Sith materials. What are you looking for?” 

“I need to know if Sith can try and reprogram someone’s mind. OR if they can plant suggestions in somebody’s mind.”

“They can.” Anakin reeled backward and glared at the much older being. 

“How do you know that?” 

“The little boxes,” She shrugged, ignoring the indignant glare sent her way. “They talk to me sometimes. They get very tetchy and very rude and then very polite when I remind them I have apposable thumbs.”

“The sith holocrons talk to you?”

“Only when they are curious or bored or annoyed at me.” Honodo grinned, “If they behave then I take them for walkies!” 

“You’ve been dabbling with Sith arts!”

“They do not affect me and I was not going to get rid of them. Knowledge is knowledge, even the forbidden kind. Who is to decide who keeps it and who gets rid of it?” Anakin blinked and leaned back to grin at her. 

“You are a strange woman.”

“Yes, I am! Now! The Sith thingys are in my little house across the continent.” 

“Alright.” Anakin nodded firmly, “The Sith holocrons.”


	8. Potential Energy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans come together.

There were six holocrons. All of them were stuffed haphazardly into a box lined with lead and a kyber crystal shards that Honodo must have stolen from someone. Who, Anakin wasn't sure.

"They do not like being close to each other!" Honodo laughed. "This makes them easier to control."

"Right." Water dripped steadily in the background. The Cave system that the crime boss had hidden the holocrons had a river running almost directly beneath it. Anakin could feel the proximity of millions of gallons of pure water. He wasn't sure if it was wise keeping something so contaminated right next to a water supply was a good idea but he didn't question it. "Do you know their names?"

"Only one, Revan. The others don't want to tell me their names."

"Right." Anakin focused on the holocrons and pulled the Force close. It came readily, an immense darkness of shadows cast by every light in the galaxy. Pushing it forward he unlocked the holocrons, raising them to eye level and carefully watching as their triangular bodies began to click and whirl and lights flickered on. Six Sith masters stood in a semi-circle around him. A few human and a few alien. One masked in armor almost like a clone. Another covered in a mass of shelled creatures. Two in simple robes and then the rest in various leather configurations.

"As I live and breath." The masked one said, their voice smooth and edged with confidence. "The Son of Suns." "That obsolete title means nothing!" Boomed the one encased in animals.

An almost human form sneered down at Anakin. "The boy means nothing."

"Hello!" Honodo said cheerfully." The Sith Lords considered the weequay before begrudgingly waving at her. "This is Anakin Skywalker."

"I do not care," The other man thundered, "Release us, Brat. I wish to rest. " "You have been resting for fifteen centuries."

The one opposite Anakin drawled, "Really, Lord Lozz, are you so weak and tired you cannot answer the boys questions?"

"Hmm," Lord Lozz, a tall human was impressive tatooes, glowered at the masked Sith before shrugging. "I do not wish to answer the questions of that childish order."

"Can you not sense the darkness he wields?" Anakin watched the Sith shift, "He is no Jedi."

"Agreed, but he is not Sith." Lord Lumis grumbled, "He is a boy who falls every which way from the wind. Unsure of his own footing. If you cannot stand in your own convictions then how can you become anything?"

"I am Anakin Skywalker," Anakin announced formally, cutting into the argument. "I am who I am. I am nothing more and nothing less."

"I am Darth Revan." The masked one nodded their head. "The one beside me is Darth Bane, current progenitor of the Sith of now."

"I am Lord Lozz."

The red skinned twi'lek who had been watching in silence now spoke, "You may call me Lady Ramage."

The other alien, another woman of a species Anakin could not identify said, "I am Lord Regen." He turned to the last Sith. An ancient woman who didn't seem to be paying attention to the proceedings. Her eyes were closed and her arms folded in her lap.'

"We do not know her name." Revan said, "She does not speak to us." '

"I need to know about Sith magic." "Magic." Bane sneered. "Sith do not use magic. We wield the Force, not some some child's imagination."

"Then I need to know Sith techniques." Anakin said. Behind him, Honodo settled in to watch. "Specifically one to make you like someone else. If you can plan the impression in the mind of your...victim or whatnot and every time they mention you out loud they feel...affection or care or something."

"The emotions of the human body are not only from its spirit." Darth Bane spoke first after the silence that followed his question. "Chemicals, endorphin's. Emotions are based on chemical reactions within your brain. A reason why some cannot process them or verbalize them, their brain has significant issues with this. You, Son of the Suns, have some of them as well. However, this technique you speak of is not only a Sith technique. It can be used by both sides of the Force, by any order. Still, a spirit strong enough can overcome these."

"It was used on me." Anakin said, he gingerly reached up and pressed a hand to his collarbone where the scar of the surgery to remove his transmitter sat. "Why would he do that?"

"To corrupt you, boy." Ramage grunted, "Why else? To corrupt, to destroy, to aid in your Fall."

"I would never Fall! I would never be a Sith!" "Do not be so sure, Son of the Suns." Revan clasped their hands behind their back. "Do not be so sure." Anakin watched the Sith, his fists clenching and un-clenching his passion. "Power is power and when flesh encases starlight it cracks and breaks. You cannot be less or more than you are and you are the sum of your experiences. From Honodo's recent reports these experiences are not good." Anakin turned around to glare at the singularly unrepentant crime lord. Still frustrated he tore his eyes from the weequay and toward the Sith lords.

"Then what does he want? The Sith?"

"Nothing less than the total annihilation of the Jedi and control of the galaxy." Bane intoned, "As is the desire of every Sith lord." Revan coughed. "The desire of every  _proper_ Sith Lord." 

"Then how do we stop him. How do I destroy the Sith?" 

"As I understand it," Revan nodded to Honodo, "you have already begun such an endeavor." 

"You believe I would hand you the keys to the destruction of my lineage son?" Bane demanded, a shudder of disgust ran through Anakin as something on his shelled surface opened its eyes. "The new creation of the Sith empire is a celebratory event. Not one where the pathetic children of the Jedi Order attempt to bring their soft bodies and weak arms to stop them." 

"He is not a Jedi." Ramage pointed out. "Else he would not have used the darkness to beckon us." 

"If your lineage son cannot maintain his power through the upheavals of a galaxy at war then he does not deserve such power. He does not deserve such a title as Dark Lord of the Sith." Lozz interjected. "Sith should not play such duplicitous games and run about coyly. They ought to destroy their enemies face to face. Consume these flesh, bathe in their blood! Raze armies to dust! Tell the boy how to destroy your linage son, Bane. Rid the galaxy of this pathetic Sith."

"He has risen to more power and strength than you were ever capable of!" Bane snarled. "The corruption of the Republic! The attempted corruption and seduction of the Son of the Suns! Do not mock my lineage son! He is more deserving the title of Sith than you!"

"Brainwashing is a Jedi technique." Lozz shouted back. "To push and prod someone from their beliefs until they see the galaxy on in one way _reeks_ of Jedi philosophy. As Lord Revan well knows."

"There  was no pushing or prodding." Revan told Anakin, who was watching the argument with mounting confusion. "It was pure brainwashing. Similar and different to what has been done to you. Know this, the most ancient of prophesies that were recorded from the Force tell of a Chosen One. It has long been understood that whoever controls the Chosen One controls the galaxy." Anakin let out a shaky breath and locked down every Sith except Bane, Revan, and the old woman. 

"How do I?"

"In the time before the formation of the Jedi." Anakin, Revan, and Bane turned to see the old woman speaking. Her eyes remained closed but her voice was a steady rasp. "Before the Republic the galaxy was protected by those now termed Lord Protectors. Force sensitive warriors who ruled and lead in exchanged for protection from the restless and dangerous beyond. These Lord Protectors were destroyed and fell to antiquity when the Benndu Order and the Jedi Order rose to prominence. Upon the schism of the Order that lead to the creation of the Sith, these Lord Protectors faced death from both orders. Neither willing to allow what they considered heresy to flourish in the galaxy. The First Republic was established in the Core and the Sith Empire on the rim. The ensuing battles, known as the Sith Wars, resulted in the destruction of the remaining Lord Protectors. In their place rose the Hutt Syndicates and then Zygerrian Slave Empire." Her voice fell silent and Anakin grimaced. 

"So what do you want me to do?" 

"He who is protector to one is enemy to another." 

"Eh!" Honodo exclaimed. "Excellent. The old crone is right! This is brilliant!! Ah, he needs a name."

"Again your dizzying leaps of intuition are beyond us." Bane sighed, annoyed. "What are you referring too, wench?" 

"I am referring to the gorge six miles from here the experience frequent rock falls." Honodo's pleasant expression was wiped away. "And how it is the perfect place to hide your un-dead corpse." Bane glowered and Anakin turned his holocron off before anything else could happen. When the Sith was stored in the box with the others Honodo continued. 

"Bah, Sith Lord of old or not I will not be disrespected by a memory." She twined her fingers together. "Darth Revan, Skywalker is not a Jedi or a Sith but I can make both sides believe he is the other. There wouldn't happen to be any...spare Sith names lying about, are there?"

"Your duplicity never fails to astonish," Revan admired, "There are two options. Zoon, which means son. As the Son of the Suns it may be fitting. The other is Vader, which means father." Revan titled their mask as if considering Anakin. "Even more fitting, perhaps."

"Zoon sounds stupid." Honodo waved a hand. "No one will tremble before Lord Zoon, it sounds like you've taken too much caf and can't come down off a high. We will go with Vader. Yes. Lord Vader." Anakin felt another shiver in the Force and leaned into the comfort it offered. "Yes, yes. Turn this thing off. We have a war to plan. Fools to make, weapons to charge. I can feel it, Skywalker!" Honodo smacked his back and cackled. "History is calling!  It sings for us! Come, come, come." 

"Take us both with you." Revan commanded, waving a hand to the side. "You will need us." 

"I don't need you." Anakin told him, "But I'll bring you." 

"Excellent!" Honodo gleefully clapped her hands. "Onto our scheme!" 

"I promised Caleb we'd spend the evening together."

"Fine. Onto our scheme! Tomorrow. Early!" Honodo waltzed from the cave, congratulating herself and generally feeling pleased with her scheme. Anakin shrugged and carefully reassembled the Sith holocrons before tucking them into his pockets and leaving as well. 

 

$#$#

 

 Ahsoka was caught in a feedback loop of misery. Master Plo was a perfect teacher and master but he was always called away to meetings, conferences, or dealing with the clones. It seemed that he had no time for his new student the middle of the war. Ahsoka still grieved for Skywalker too. She watched the recording of Dooku announcing, no, gloating about Anakin's death. How he'd beheaded the man. How he said Anakin had been weak and begged for mercy. She clenched her fist and bared her teeth at the tiny figure of Count Dooku. She hated him. She was going to destroy him. 

"You should not keep watching that, little one." 

"Master!" She jumped to her feet, switching off the recording and gaping as Master Plo edged through the door with a bag of take out in his hand. "Where have you been all day?"

"A council meeting." He told her as the door slid shut. She hovered around him as he set the bag down a shrugged off his cloak. "Then to get you a treat."

"Master, I don't." Ahsoka shifted guiltily on her feet and then cringed when he gave her a swift hug. "I don't deserve it. I haven't been doing so well and."

"Hush, little one. Choosing to treat you is my prerogative." He patted her back and separated. "Enjoy it." 

Ahsoka nodded and then grinned when she recognized the image stamped on the side. "You got this from Dex's! That's Skyguy's..." Her voice trailed off and her hand withdrew from the plasic bag. "Why did you get this?" She whispered, hugging herself. 

"I picked it up." Plo said, opening the bag and began to set the different containers on the table. "For you. I noticed you have been eating much less than you ought to be and I know this diner was a favorite of Skywalker."

Eyes suddenly and trying to force down the sudden lump in her throat, Ahsoka turned to leave. "I'm not hungry." She announced and hadn't made it five steps before her new master had gently snagged the back of her jacket. 

"Little one." 

"I'm not hungry." She repeated, pulling weakly again the hold on her jacket, trying to escape. "I'm going to bed."

"Come and eat, little one." Plo said softly, escorting her back to the table and setting a little cup of soup in front of her. 

"Why'd you go get this?" She demanded, crossing her arms and deliberatly looking away from the soup. "I don't need any of this. I ate in the commissary." 

"I know you did not, little one." Plo told her. "I retrieved these foods because I knew how connected you are to them and what memories they connect with Anakin." 

"Anakin is dead! He's gone and I've released all my feelings into the force! I'm fine!" She blinked furious tears out of her eyes and then glared at the soup. "Go away." Any other master in the temple would have scolded her, punished or or even yelled. Plo Koon only guided her unresistant form into the chair. It squeaked as she sat.

"It is important that you recognize your connection to Anakin Skywalker. You cannot process his death if you attempt to push it away and simply release it away into the force. Emotions must be processed and accepted before a being can heal."

"I'm fine!" Tear in her eyes burned like a brand. It hurt to be so vulnerable in front of Plo. It ached to know just how much she was deviating from the usual Jedi path. How much she had failed in her lessons. "I'm fine!" 

"Little one," A spoon was settled into the soup. "I know you are hurt. His death is painful and you suffer so much with his passing." 

"I'M FINE!" She shouted, leaning away from the truth, shaking her head to rid it of the acknowledgement of his words. "I don't want to talk about him." 

"Then do not talk about him. I will not force you to or ask you to. I only ask that you think of him while you eat. If you do not want to do that then eat and consider that an order."  

  Ahsoka glowered sulkily and bypassed the spoon completely. Gripping the take-out container she lifted it to her mouth and drained the thin soup in a few hasty gulps. Slamming the now empty thing down on the table she reached for the next one. It was half of a meaty sandwich, dripping blood and Dex's secret sauce. It was gone in two bites. Plo easily handed her a box of rice and meat. Ahsoka was halfway through demolishing the small box when she paused. She set the box on the table and stared at the mixture. "This was Skyguy's favorite." She said, her voice softer than ever, shaking with un-shed tears. "He said it was. He said it tasted like home." Ahsoka hadn't really known what Anakin was talking about at the time but she thought she might be getting an idea. She blinked out a few tear and glowered at Master Plo who seemed unmoved. Ahsoka pushed the rise and meat away and crossed her arms.  "What's the point? Huh? So you can see me cry? So you can see my attachment to Anakin? I'm not sorry for loving him! I'm not sorry for caring and I'm sure as hell not sorry for hating Dooku for killing him!"

"You hate Dooku?"

"I want him dead!" She seethed. "I want his head! I want him to die just like Anakin. I want a public execution where the whole galaxy can watch." Her voice cracked. "I hate him! I hate him! I. I want him dead! I want him to pay for all the things he did to Anakin! And I!" The togruta fell silent and fought to regain control of her emotions. To hold herself steady under the solemn gaze of the kel-dor beside her. 

"Do you miss Anakin?" She nodded miserably. "Little one, it is natural to mourn his death. To hate who hurt him. To desire revenge."

"Revenge is not the Jedi way." 

"Perhaps not the way but it is natural in every sentient to desire revenge or to hate. Or to love. I have lived several centuries, my young one. I have buried my own padawans before and their padawans. If you did not mourn or seek the revenge your master that is what I would be concerned with." 

"It's not fair." Her shoulders shook and she buried her face in her hands. "I don't want to feel like this. It hurts so much! I can't stop it! I want to feel better. I want to be a better Jedi but I." 

"It will hurt for a long time, little 'soka." Plo said, holding her shoulders in his clawed hands with easy tenderness. "It will be the first thing you think about in the morning and the last thing you think about in the evening. It hurts more than anything, more than a wound, more than a broken bone. Until one day it is the second thing you think about when you wake up." Ahsoka's whole body began to shake. "I do promise you, you will feel better one day and it will not hurt this much. I will be here to help you the whole way through." The orphaned padawan leaped out of her seat and into his arms, sobbing furiously. Plo carefully embraced the crying teenager even as she fell apart at the seams. 

#$#$

 Padme had on one to hold if she fell apart at the seams.  No one to take care of her in the midst of her turmoil. No one to care about her pain. She was frozen in indecision, in her terror and horror.  

Alone. Isolated from the galaxy by the bundle of cells growing in her. 

 Her apartment lights were off. The darkness of the room was only illuminated by a thin crack of light through the curtain that lit up the japort snippet that was set on the edge of her desk. She hadn't moved in two hours, breathing harshly and desperately seeking any measure of peace. 

  One. Anakin was dead. Two. She was pregnant. Three. She could not tell anyone. Obi Wan might discover that the father was Anakin. He would inform the Council. The Council would tell the Chancellor. She admired Palpatine too much to have him think her so low a woman. He would be disapproving and the Queen would be furious.  Unconsciously she reached up to cup her still-flat stomach with a shaking hand. 

What could she do? What could be done. Where could she go? All of her allies and friends were political allies and friends. Most of them made through her career and based on mutual agreement on policies.  

 She was torn from her whirlwind thoughts but the chip of her communicator. Her glassy eyes turned toward it and she mechanically picked it up. "Amidala here." 

"Padme." Bail, she recognized distantly. "I know you are feeling ill at the moment but there are some proposals over tomorrows bill that I am concerned with. I wanted to share these concerns with you as well. If you are up for it."

"Come over." Padme blurted before realizing what she'd done. "Yes, come visit. I...I will discuss these bills." She flipped it off, still staring unseeing at the wall. For another half out she didn't move until a knock came at the door. Then, with a sense of being outside her own body while another controlled it, Padme stood and let Senator Organa in. 

 He was wearing his usual white and silver. His eyes were dark with concern and before Padme could say anything he grabbed her hands. "You're as white as a moon and colder than ice! Padme! Sit down, sit down. I'll make you some tea. Alright? Do you need me to call a doctor? I'll call a doctor." 

"No. Yes...I don't know." Bail watched her carefully. 

"Let's have some tea. It will warm you up." Padme still felt as if she watching the whole scene through another's eyes. As if her body might have been inhabitated by someone else. The silk of her gown was colder on her skin than it had ever been, branding her with the iciness and chilling her to the bone.  "Here." Bail set, not a delicate or tiny tea cup in front of her, but the enormous mug that had been Anakin's favorite. The words 'Galaxies Best Senator' were printed on the side in bright red next to the stylized version of the Republic crest. It had been a joke between them, a hilarious one. Padme had laughed herself to tears while Anakin had proudly maid it's maiden cup of tea. "I thought you could use a lot more than usual," He told her at the confused tilt of her head. "Here, drink this. I know it'll help you feel better."

   Heat seeped through the cheap ceramic mug and into her hands. It defrosted the ice on her bones and the cold that had crystallized her blood. When she drank it warmed her until she felt almost alive again. Grasping for a life-line she seized Bail's dark hand and clutched with all her strength. "Is this caffeinated?" 

"No."

"Good." She took another hefty gulp and let out a shuddering breath. "I need your help, Bail."

"Anything," he promised. "I'll help you with anything." 

"I'm going to have a baby." She confessed, "In about eight and half months. I need your help. You and I both know what this could lead to and what effects it can have on my career." 

"What do you need?" Bail's attention was suddenly laser focus, ready to work. Ready to help. 

"This war needs to end. It needs to end today, tomorrow. I lost my child's father to this war. I won't let it keep happening. I won't!"

"Where do we start?"

"First," She took a deep gulping breath, "We stop tomorrows bill. No more troopers. No more. We destroy this bill in the opening argument. It's the only one scheudled for tomorrow so...that's what we're going to do. Tomorrow, then the next day. Then the day after that. Bail, I need your help to stop this war." 

"Anything, Padme." Bail promised, holding on as tightly to Padme as she was holding onto him. "Anything." 

#$#$

It was laughably easy for Dooku and his team of intelligence agents to get access to a closed Senate session. To hack into the various recording devices planted in the building and witness the true uselessness of the Republic.  His conference room was still ringing with the furious screaming and shouting that had raged across the Senate building for an hours after Padme Amidala's opening argument had effectively killed the bill to expand the military budget.

"If they do not spend more on clone trooper," General Grievous  coughed, "Then who will fight our armies? Who will pilot their ships?"

"A draft would likely be instated." Dooku said mildly, stirring his tea. "Every adult in the Republic is is automatically registered for the draft when they reached whatever the legal drinking age is on their planet. If the Republic does not wish to invest in more." 

"Meat clankers." Sneered Grievous. 

"Yes, thank you, Grievous. Then they will be forced to use the draft." 

"Historically," Wat Tambor added, "This does not end well, ever."

"It could work in our favor." General Villa rasped. Her eye gleamed with malice that Dooku admired. Which reminded him of the fact he still had not thought of how to kill her without enormous dangerous repercussions. "People don't want to be actively involved in a war." 

"They desire to do their civic duty only as long as it makes them comfortable." Said the Umbaran senator. "I agree with the High General. This would give us an advantage. If people do not wish to fight then they will call the war to an end. If they do not believe in the reasons for war then all the better. If the war ends by this then the Confederacy secures our hold in the galaxy instead of fearing losing every planet to invasion."

"I cannot believe that the Republic would desire anything except war. The very existence of the Confederacy is an insult to Core world sensibilities."

"My compatriots. It is too early to assume anything from this. We will watch these events carefully." Dooku set a hand on the table. "If the war does end in a timely manner then we will speak of how to secure our borders but there is little indication that the Senate would even begin to allow a draft. They will see the results as easily as I do. Too many of them benefit from the war. To lose such an enormous gap of funds would destabilize them." 

"Perhaps that is what we ought to do. Petition for peace long enough to destabilize their senate." Villa interjected. "It would be too easy for them to break the treaty. To simple. Allow the Jedi to do it and they will plunge the galaxy back into the war."  

"There are other ways to ruin the Republic senate. How is Master Windu, General?" 

"Alive but fuming. His troopers all secured on Ryloth now." 

"Indeed." Dooku considered Villa perhaps a minute too long. Her expression shifted from guarded to suspicious and Dooku knew she'd deduced his plans in that single minute.  "Indeed."

#$#$#

  It turned out there was only so much meditation that one person could handle. Mace Windu was apparently at his limit. His cell was eight feet wide, ten feet long and with a single string of lights that were controlled from the outside. A small one by one window was placed on the opposite wall, awkward and only allowing in daylight for a few hours before it was cast back into shadows. He craved company, attention. Anything besides the silent droids and the three meals a day. 

    Mace had slipped from meditation into daydream and was enjoying a vivid fantasy of running through a meadow when something slammed against the metal of the wall outside his cell. He jerk violently out of his waking daze and found himself once again pinned by the ugly glare of General Villa. 

"Madam." He bowed his head politely. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" The gold twi'lek did not move for a long moment. Her eyes narrowed and eventually she pulled a small rectangle from her pocket. A sharp whine assaulted his ears and Mace blinked when he recognized the disruptor she carried. 

"To all outward appearances I am mocking you." Her raspy voice sent a shiver down his spine. "Reveling in the glory of your defeat and the destruction of your precious little fleet when I only had a few broken hulls slathered in paint." 

"I am insulted." Windu agreed. "But you were a cunning opponent and surrendering was the honorable and necessary thing to do." 

"Spare me your preaching," she waved a gloved hand and paced to the center of the front of his cell. "Do not justify your decisions to me. I forced you to make them. Who would better understand than I?"

"Why are you really here then?" 

"Someone wants you dead."

"You." Villa shook her head. 

"I would gladly attend your funeral and perhaps celebrate at your wake but you serve a purpose for me, Windu. You are needed alive." Villa took a deep breath. He could hear the wisping rattle as it rushed out of damaged lungs and past uneven teeth. "Soon you will be presented with a choice. An opportunity you would ordinarily leap at. Do not accept it. Remain where you are and you will be safe and those you want to protect will be safe." Mace did not want to offend someone who could threaten him so easily but he still doubted the woman's word. "Believe me. Do not believe me. Only know that this crossroad endangers more of yours than it does of mind should you chose what is offered." Without another word General Villa was gone, stomping out of the prison as if she had not just tossed Mace Windu an curve ball. 

Well, it seemed there wasn't too much meditation that someone would handle because now he actually had something to think about. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a limited understanding of how Bane and Revan operate but this is fanfic so it doesn't matter.


	9. New Apprentice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kitster is here. Anakin is given it gift. Palpatine victimizes everyone.

Vader. The name thrummed in his veins. It vibrated within his heart and buzzed along his brain. The name carried meaning and history. It held the greatest of potentials and the worst of fears. 

"A Jedi Lord?"

"In so many words," Honodo said, "I'm sending you to Tatooine. Two days from now with a ship, a few former slaves and a hulls worth hutt currency."

"What do you want me to do there?" 

"What you must." 

"You've only started with the spice traders through." 

"Yes, they are good pickings." Anakin didn't want to think of how many pilots she'd been spacing. "Spice runner and gunrunners."

"Isn't anyone going to notice a pirate fleet getting bigger?'

"Not in this galaxy and when they do it will be too late. Hutt space is heavily contested right now. The sieges are picking up. If a few vessels are lost along the way who will notice? No one. No one will notice. You go to Tatooine, begin your master plan and I will keep pulling out their ships on this end." Anakin nodded. He looked up to the house to see Caleb sulking on the back porch. "You're going to need to tell him where you're going." Honodo said then she shouted. "GRANDSON!" Caleb leaped up and sprinted toward them. He skidded to a halt with Anakin as his impact wall. 

"ANAKIN!" 

"Hey, Caleb." He said, hugging the excited boy back. "Where's the fire?" 

"You said it wouldn't take long and you said you'd hang out with me!" 

"I did." He ignored the calculating gleam in Honodo's eyes. "What do you want to do?"

"I want to hang out with you." Caleb said, not releasing his middle. 

"But what do you want to do?"

"Hang out." Anakin rolled his eyes. 

"My new prosthetic is pretty new and I'm going to be leaving the planet pretty soon on a mission. Do you want to practice katas?" 

"YES! YES! YES!" Caleb drew back and bounced around. "I haven't been able to do any because I don't want to fall into bad habits because I don't have anyone there to correct me. Ohhh. I still have my lightsaber too!" 

"Just the motions." Anakin said and he followed a cheerfully bouncing Caleb toward a distant clearing that the boy insisted was the best place to be. "Basics first." Anakin said, rolling his shoulders and carefully stretching out. "Working in a new prosthetic is a little difficult for me." 

"Okay." Caleb stepped back and took up the usual position and watched Anakin settle into place. 

"We'll go through them at half-speed twice before we do it at full speed." 

"Alright." Caleb burned with excitement and followed the older man faithfully. 

When they finished at sunset, Anakin was feeling a little more grounded, a little more human. He dropped the last position and then to the soft grass they had trampled during their practice. Caleb flung himself down next to him, laughing. 

"That was a great practice!" 

"It was good.'" Anakin agreed, petting Caleb's hair gently. The boy was laying halfway on top of him, his head pillowed on his stomach. "Depa trained you well." 

"She was a great master." Caleb agreed.

"Do you think about her?"

"All the time. I miss her like crazy. I want her to be here but she wouldn't." 

"Why did you come here?"

"I didn't mean too. It was an accident." Caleb turned enough to look Anakin in the eyes, his green eyes solemn. "I guess it was after one of the battles, I don't remember which one it was but my men were...dead. The whole thing was horrible. I dream about them crying for their brothers, the bombs, the artillery." Caleb curled up a bit, closing his eyes and reached for Anakin's hand. "Master and I were running away from the oncoming droids and then. Well, a lot more of my men died and my master was hurt and I got separated when I blacked out." He could feel the images bubbling to the surface of Caleb's mind. The faint memories of the smoke rising in the distance along with the scent of a demolish city created a heavy picture that was unconsciously offered to Anakin. "When I woke up I was alone and I had been pinned under this huge thing that fell on top of me." Anakin sat up and pulled Caleb into a hug, careful as the boy stared into the distance. "I don't blame my master," Caleb told him. "She probably thought it was too late for her to do anything or that I'd been killed in the first explosion." 

"You were alone?"

"Yeah." His voice was fragile and soft. He leaned into Anakin's chest, sighing. "For a whole day. I wasn't really hurt but I was...trapped under a huge metal beam which really freaked me out. It wasn't until the scavengers that usually come by after a battle started picking the place clean did I actually get...loose. I met Hondo there. Don't tell anyone this but I thought I saw a real feeling from him."

"No!" Anakin gasped and Caleb nodded seriously. 

"He didn't get mad at me and he didn't even threaten to kidnap me. His guys got me free and we started talking and then...well. I started crying and I didn't really stop for a while. He didn't get mad at me then and then he offered to bring me here." 

"Do you like it here?" 

"I miss my master and my friends at the temple too but I'm a lot happier here. I'm safer too." 

"I'm going to be leaving in a day or so." Anakin told him. He didn't know when he'd started rocking back and forth in an easy sway but the motion was comfortable and Caleb seemed to be enjoying it. "I'm going to...I'm going back to the war, Tatooine." 

"Why?" If he'd brought this up earlier Caleb would have dissolved into a frustrated bundle of nerves. Since they'd worked hard and were now relaxing with easy affection Caleb was calm, receptive to the answer. 

"A lot of a reasons but I'm going to Tatooine to free slaves." There was a whole lifetimes worth of history that Anakin wasn't telling Caleb. Things he couldn't tell the boy. 

"When will you be back?" 

"I don't know. It could be a while. Boss Honodo has an idea, a good idea."

"I know she's starting a third front of the war but I'm not sure what she wants to accomplish." 

"Lots of things." Anakin looked toward the distant house as the ringing dinner bell reached his ears. "Looks like its time for good." 

"I don't want to move!" Caleb whined, slumping bonelessly into Anakin's arms. "I'm tired." 

"You should have been practicing." Grinning, he crouched just enough to haul the boy into his arms and then he stood. Caleb squawked in surprise, wrapping his arms around Anakin's neck before he realized what he was doing. 

"STOP! Put me down!" 

"You said you were to tired to move. I'm just obliging." 

"I'm not a kid though. Dr. Tani will laugh at me!" Anakin set off across the meadow. Caleb squirmed. "Anakin, put me down. I can walk!" 

"No can do!" Anakin said cheerfully and he kept his grip tight on Caleb until he reached the back porch of one-story ranch home. When he carted Caleb into the living room people looked around. 

"Don't tell me he's hurt!" Tani exclaimed from his spot in the kitchen. 

"He told me he was too tired to move." Anakin said, "I'm just going to put him to bed. "

"Put me down! I want to eat!" 

"If he needs bed then put him to bed." Tani agreed and Caleb glowered at the doctor over Anakin's shoulder when he turned the corner and moved toward the bedroom. 

"I want dinner!" Caleb called again, half laughing and half outraged. 

"Bedtime!" Anakin shouted and easily tossed the teenager onto his mattress. "Goodnight!"

"NO!" Caleb shot off the bed and toward the door only to be tackled by a laughing Anakin. "NO!" They scuffled and fought until it spilled into the living room and both of them collapsed beside the coffee table, laughing. "DINNER!" He shouted and scrambled out of Anakin's grip and toward the kitchen and Dr. Tani. Still sitting on the floor, he continued to laugh and stood easily. 

"I'll keep him company, I promise." Said the twi'lek. "While you're gone."

"Thank you." Anakin said and followed after the excited former Jedi padawan. 

#%$$$%$

Kitster Banai lived in a small hut in the most cramped part of the slave quarters. He lived alone for the most part but shared his small space with whoever needed a place to hide or to sleep. The crooked pile of scum that owned him was named Jeense Poline, a small time spice runner and part-time junk dealer. He'd bought Kitster off Gardulla four years ago after a spectacular meltdown of a speeder he had worked on. It was a miracle that Kitster was alive at this point because when Jeense had bought him he hadn't' been much more than a lump of beaten flesh. Still, he was alive now and his days were filled with the unenterprising task of putting pod racers back together and repairing droids. Jeense kept most of his attention focused on the spice running, spending most of his time off-planet. 

So he was generally alone for long periods of time. Which was why he was astonished to see someone standing inside the junk shop when Kitster unlocked it. 

"Hello." The person was tall, robed in tan and gray. He was facing the opposite wall and looked to be holding a weapons of some sort. When he turned Kitster felt his blood turn to ice. A mask was slotted neatly over the man's face and a hood was drawn up. He couldn't have been more intimidating than if he'd been holding Kitster's transmitter cylinder. 

"Kister Banai." The voice was thick, gravelly with a metallic hint. He paused as if looking for something to say. "You look well." 

"All things considered." Kitster blurted and swallowed heavily when the intruder stalked toward him. There was a definite edge of danger to the movement. "Who are you?" 

"A stranger...and a friend." The figure hesitated and Kitster shifted backward as a gloved hand emerged from the robes and pulled the mask off. Anakin Skywalker smiled wearily at him. "Hello, Kitster."

"Anakin!" He couldn't believe it. Anakin Skywalker was famous across the galaxy. The bootleg recruitment posters were plastered over the walls in every bar and diner in the city. People of Tatooine who remembered the Boonta Eve Classic were proud, in a twisted way, of what he had done. How he was spending his life now that he was free. Hearing that Anakin had been executed by Dooku had crushed Kitster's joy and hope for weeks. "Anakin." He hesitated and then threw himself at the man. Anakin caught him easily, yanking him into a heavy hug and swaying side to side. "We heard you were dead! The whole galaxy thinks you're dead." 

"Great." Anakin wheezed and Kitster pulled back, "That's good. I've come back. I've come back to keep my promise." 

"Your promise?" 

"Yeah," Anakin nodded, still not really letting go of him. His hands were clutching his threadbare clothes as if reaching for any sort of stability. "The one I made Mom before I left." 

"But you're a Jedi!" 

"I'm technically dead. No one is looking for me and no one cares. Mostly. I've got a backer that's willing to help." Anakin said with a rush. "You're my friend, you should know. I need your help. If you like. I won't make you but I'd like for your help and." 

"You..." Kitster felt his mind whirl and he sat down heavily on a rusted out droid part. "You're going to free us?" 

"Not just the planet, the outer rim too." Anakin stood next to him. Here he could see the grasping metal of the man's prosthetic. "Everyone, we're going to eradicate slavery. We can save them!"

"How? How are you going to do it? "Kitster asked, grasping at the first question that came to mind. It crowded out all the others because of all the other questions that fluttered around waiting to be spoken it was the heaviest. 

"Free you. Work from the bottom, move up. I have help coming too." 

"My master." The man would be a problem if he pulled his head from his spice barrels long enough to focus. 

"Dead, his shipment was destroyed en route to Corellia. Ship high-jacked and the crew spaced." 

"How?" 

"I said," Anakin repeated, blue eyes burning with unnerving intensity, "I have help." 

"Who?"

"I can't tell you." Anakin held out his hand, "One day, maybe, but not now."

"And you want to...what? Come down and...bring some army to fight the slavers in the streets? They'll kill us all before we even got off a shot." 

"No, no." Enthusiasm, excitement and a promise that burned so bright Kitster leaned back, infused his voice. "We work from the bottom. You, you know everyone. You know the deals and the crimes. I have the skills! Recruitment! I have a plan, Kister." 

"I...I don't know." It was overwhelming, frighting. He was standing in the belly of a krayt beast and ready to jump. Kitster took a breath and nodded. "Where do we start?" 

"With getting your transmitter removed." Anakin yanked him into a crushing hug. "In which ever back alley room will do it tonight. Then we catch up and then we get started. I have a plan. Kister, I have a plan!" 

"I guess you do." Kitster hugged back and felt his heart jump to his throat. "There is a place in the back of the junk shop by the Three Lekku bar. I know the counter keeper. She'll operate. I'll be up and walking by next week." 

"I have a place I can keep you. While you recover. You'll be safe there." 

"But where?" 

"Mom's old place. Watto had a bad debt and didn't pay it off so Gardulla got hers in blood. I have the title to all his holdings."

"I remember that, there wasn't much of anything left of him." 

"Except his shop and his house." 

"But it's your old junk shop," Kitster frowned, "Won't you feel." 

"I'm getting my revenge. I'm doing what he would have hated." Anakin's voice sharpened with dangerous hate and promise of his old master. "I will rub it in his face until his spirit is nothing. Also, I plan on burning it down later." 

"Oh, what about your transmitter?"

"Removed a few weeks ago."

"Not by the Jedi?" 

"They didn't think it was relevant." Old pain flared in Anakin's eyes and he looked to the side. "Come on. Its early enough that there aren't any drunks coming back for their hangover cure. If we go now she'll have you done by lunch." 

"She does work faster," Kitster agreed. "I'll meet you there." 

"I'll bring you to the junk shop tonight." Anakin promised and he reattached his mask. The mechanical voice echoed out, "I'll go over the plan tonight." 

#$#$

Kitster felt the pull and burn of the surgery scar from the second he woke up. It had been planted in his leg. Deep in the muscle and nearly grown into the bone. He'd been told that it had taken her almost an hour to get it out without damaging major nerves, veins, or arteries. Though the operator had nicked the bone, hence why he was aching with a bone deep pain that made him want to scream. 

He did not scream. Kitster hissed and leveraged himself up in time to see Anakin duck around the privacy screen he'd set up last night. The apartment above the shop was mostly empty. Gardulla's men had ransacked the place of anything valuable. Sand had blown through some of the cracks, dusting the floor. There was a cot, a few amenities and a curtain for Kitster to claim a room with. The place still smelled like oil, dirt, blood, and Watto. Early morning heat bled into the room, heating it to a comfortable degree after chasing out the nights chill. 

"I brought tea and good news." Anakin helped him sit up and pressed a mug into his hands. "Gardulla lost of a shipment of spice from her factory on Ylesia. My backer's been looking into the operation there."

"Why is this good?" Kitster asked, sucking down his tea and feeling the pain abate bit by bit. "What did you put in this?" 

"Hmmm, painkiller." The blond looked abashed. "I'm sorry. It'll help with the pain. Dr. Tani game me some before I left. Along with some bacta patches." Anakin produced a box and smiled at him. "I'm going to put some one, alright?"

"Bacta's expensive," Kitster said, his voice going soft and wobbly. He felt the cup slip and he easily fell back onto the basic sleeping pad. "Use is one someone who needs it." 

"I am." Anakin promised. "I know recovering isn't any fun. I slept for about a week after my surgeries. Sleep and you'll recover faster, I promise." Kitster, who had been in a bit of a blur for almost two days, nodded. He slept with no interruption as Anakin carefully applied the bacta patch. When Anakin was done he glanced back to see a familiar glowing form. 

"Father." He drew the blanket over Kitster and stood. "Why are you here?"

"This building has many memories for you." The living force looked like a wookie now. His fur crafted from gold and white sun while stars spun lazily in the shadows. 

'Yeah." Anakin rubbed the back his head. "It does." 

"You never called for me." Said the Force, walking a slow circle around the room. "You never asked for me."

"I didn't think." Anakin wondered what his father was seeing. Nebula's flicked back to him when the Force passed through a spot near the burned out kitchen. "Mom said she carried me and that was it. I figured..." 

"I see." The unspoken implication was enough to give his father pause. They sat in silence for some time, Anakin watched Kitster breath and his father observed him carefully. "If you would like to know...he is being punished. All of them are."

"I don't feel better." Anakin said and his father nodded. "What brought you here?"

"You." The Living Force replied and set an enormous paw on his head. "You are my child. I offer you a gift." 

"Uh...okay." Anakin blinked and nearly drew back as his father leaned down and pressed a snuffling sort of kiss to his forehead. The fur tickled his forehead. He'd seen these kinds before. It was for family members only. 

"For you, my son." His father vanished leaving Anakin with the impression of the kiss on his forehead, soft as the beat of a butterfly's wing. A second later the former Jedi flopped to one side, unconscious. He dreamed of nothing and of everything. He fell past words and galaxies designed by gods older and younger than the force. A disc on the shoulders of the elephants and standing on a turtle. A round little planet just stepping into space travel. A galaxy of hundreds of planets, some united and some not. 

Anakin landed back in his reality with a thump that woke him up. He surged to his feet and stared about, sucking down a breath. No one one else was here. Every corner of the room was overturned before Anakin was assured that nothing had changed. Except when he tried to go back to Kitster something stalled him. From the heart he could hear the summons of the desert. A call of a mother to bring her son home. Anakin swallowed and pulled his cloak off the floor as he moved toward the door. 

The suns were at their zenith, a long day of summer only half-way through. Slaves and masters all lounged out of the heat, trying to get some respite from the punishing heat. Eyes from every window and door focused on the cloaked man that moved down the middle of the street. He didn't seem to notice the heat or care. He walked with quiet assurance until he moved out of the city and moved toward open desert. From the middle of the slave quarters an old crone looked up from her embroidery and toward the direction the man had walked. 

"What does he look like?" She demanded of her grandson. The boy was leaning out the window and he pulled back in. 

"Tall, tan cloak, didn't see his face."

"Did you feel it?" The Grandmother gestured her grandson closer. "Did you feel the change?"

"I...might have. My hands are numb right now." 

"Hmm, I felt it." She patted his shoulder and he leaned in closer. "I felt the power. Our time has come."

"If you say so Grandma." 

"I do." She nodded. "He will come to us and we will be ready. Spread the word." 

"Alright, Grandma." The boy left the hovel. By night fall the city was buzzing. Secret rooms and hovels alight with whispering and muttering. It spread across the desert, into Jabba's palace, into the Tusken camps, and into moisture farmer's ears. 

Their time had come. 

#$#

Anakin Skywalker walked from the city, into the desert, and the into the concealed underground den of Kryat dragon. His eyes were half-lidded, glowing like the twin suns. It illuminated the walls and floors of the cave, carved pillars of japrot, some crushed tools and ship parts, and eventually the enormous flank of the beast. Awareness slipped back piece by piece. 

"You're tired." He said, stepping around the beast. She was curled up, snout pointed toward the cave entrance. Her eyes were closed and her breathing heavy. Scars and pock-marks of old blaster wounds raked her side. Part of snout had been ripped off. She must have gotten into a lot of fights to get this sort of scaring. Her age showed on the enormous scales that line her sides. Each of them indicated over a century of age. 

He set his hand on her side, trailing it along the enormous body until he came to the head and stood directly beneath the eyes. They cracked open just enough for him to see the liquid brown before sliding shut. "Why am I here?" He asked. The questions rebounded off the walls. "What do you have for me?" The dragon sighed and rolled to the side. Her vulnerable underbelly was exposed. There was an enormous scar stretched the length of two feet. It had healed well enough but Anakin could see green pus oozing from a few spots. He knew was lay beneath that scar. A kryat stone, several of them probably. But why? "What do you want from me?" He leaned back to look her in the eyes. "I don't know what you want." Even as he spoke he could feel the answer in the Force. 

She was dying. Her life was draining away, ground to a halt by infection. Every moment that passed the closer she was to death.

Anakin knelt at her side and then sat against her. Sighing, he began to pat her chest, rubbing soothing circles around the scarred tissue. Finally he began to speak. He told the dragon everything. The stories of his mother, of the Jedi, of his adventures, every time he spoke to Padme. He told her about rain and snow and flash floods. About what the stars were like up close, cold moons, the war. Anakin spoke until his words ran out and continued to speak. Desperate to ease the enormous weight of suffering the dragon carried. His voice went hoarse and his throat dried but he talked until the dragon heaved her very last breath and her existence faded peacefully into the force.

He didn't know when he'd begun crying. He wasn't even sure he had been crying until water dripped onto his hands and soaked through his clothes. He wrapped his arms around himself and buried his face into his knees. When he finally had enough strength to do what had been asked, Anakin stood. The stone was held loosely in the heavily damaged second stomach. It was a simple matter of taking it in the force and pulling the stone along the most obviously damaged parts. Pulling it from her chest as the scarred skin split. Pus and blood oozed from the re-opened wound and a black kryat stone floated neatly into his open hand. 

Anakin scavenged from the parts on the floor. Bits and bobs he could use to make a lightsaber. Lastly he grabbed a block of fallen japort snippet and ventured into the desert night. 

#$#$#$

Count Dooku paced slowly around his office. Weak sunlight filtered through the drawn curtains as the lights above maintained their dim settings. His clothes were limp, his eyes drawn and tired, his movements weak. 

His latest encounter with Darth Sidious left him shaky and tired. Electricity still buzzed along his fingers and down his legs He nearly collapsed into his chair as the door chimed. 

"Enter!" he ordered. This aide slipped through the door. "What is it?"

"The latest polling numbers, sir. A few survey results." 

"Leave them on the desk." He snapped and took a heavy gulp of his tea. "Then go." The aide, whose name he'd forgotten at this point, did as he was told. Just as he was about to leave he paused. 

"Sir." 

"What?" Dooku closed his eyes. 

"My sister...she was in a bad relationship once. Really bad." Dooku opened his eyes, confused. The aide seemed nervous but was soldiering on anyway. "There were...a lot of bruises she couldn't explain away. Lots of limping too, unhappy, miserable." He understood immediately. "Sir," the aide babbled before Dooku spoke again. "Its none of my business and it wasn't any of my business before and that got my sister killed." His mouth clamped shut and he set a small card on the table. "If you need help, any kind of help, the number on this card will help you." 

"I am the leader of this Confederacy." He sneered, "I do not need this assistance." There was too sharp gaze pointed his direction.

"It's discreet, sir. No one would know anything. No scandal, interference. None Republic too."

"Have a nice day,"Dooku nodded toward the door pointedly and the aide shrugged and left. Once the man was gone, Dooku picked up the card and snorted. With a muttering he used a small amount of lightening to set the thing on fire. Once it was gone, he turned back to his work and ignored the faint smell of charred flimsi. 

#$#$#

Skywalker was dead. This was an indisputable fact. He would not be returning from the grave. Palpatine would kill Grevious if the idiot cyborg wasn't already dead. 

He now had no apprentice. He now had no future apprentice. Dooku was only useful for so long. He was too old, too well-educated and traveled to become the sort of apprentice Dooku wanted. He would not break under these pressures. 

"Sir," his comm chimed with the voice of a secretary, "Master Obi Wan Kenobi here to see you."

"Of course, send my old friend in." He beamed and stood as Obi Wan moved into the room. It was amazing how terrible he looked. His eyes sagging, clothes rumpled but he stood with purpose. "Obi Wan, my old friend, how have you been?" 

"Fine, Chancellor, thank you for taking the time to see me." He bowed a neatly as possible. 

"Of course, I always have time for you. What brings you here?"

"The Council has a request for you, sir." Obi Wan sat awkwardly as Palpatine did. "If the Senate would authorize the challenge of Master Windu's prison sentence." 

"Master Windu surrendered willingly and on terms."

"Yes, he did, the Council find."

"But Count Dooku did murder your young friend." Palpatine said, allowing sadness to creep in. "Our young friend. I was immensely fond of Anakin myself."

"Yes." Kenobi's sharp eyes focused on him for a second then at the traffic beyond the window. His shoulders drooped visibly, "I remember. "

"Do not bother to fight these terms, Kenobi. Why, when we know just how corrupt the Confederacy. Assemble a good working team and rescue him. If he gets upset, remind him just how easily the Jedi Order could implicate him in the un-lawful death of Anakin Skywalker. He won't push against your rescue of Mace Windu if he is thus implicated."

"He might now," Kenobi agreed, "That doesn't mean his constituents won't. His generals and troops would object." 

"He would not." Palpatine thought his plan was coming along beautifully. The Jedi would rescue their Master. The Separatist would destroy the entire crew from the skies. No one would think twice about the Jedi deaths when it became clear they were violating the Mandalore treaty. It would be against every rule of war the galaxy recognized. Including a few it didn't. Kenobi did not seem to think this, he was staring blankly off into the distance and only seemed to bring himself back when Palpatine pushed a pastry his way. "Come, you must eat. I recognize that Anakin's death has left some mark on you but it does not due to make yourself ill." 

"Thank you, Chancellor. I do...apologize that you were not there for his funeral. It was...a jedi matter." 

"Of course. Holding one for the Republic was much different, we did not have a body to show but...his indomitable spirit lives on in all of us. His strength and courage will give the Republic the motivation to do what needs to be done. How better to regain justice on his murderer. Humiliate his murderer." Kenobi twitched and his temper flared. Palpatine kept down a delighted laugh. 

He may not get the Chosen One but he would get the next best thing. 

"You loved Anakin, didn't you." He said quietly. Obi Wan's eyes flared again and his whole body went rigid.

"Attachments is not the Jedi way." 

"Of course," He agreed. "Of course." Obi Wan blinked at him a few time and nodded as the silence between them thickened. All he had to do now was plan the seduction and fall of Obi Wan Kenobi.


	10. A Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honodo is devious. Kenobi needs help.

Padme couldn’t sense the tiny person in her uterus. Yes, she felt she could sense the tiny being growing within. There was an glossy feeling, a touch to the back of her mind that had persisted since she’d learned of her pregnancy. The best she could translate it to was having a small string with a tiny weight tied to the back of her hair. She was aware of it at all time and had no idea what to do with it. 

“Pamde?” Bail tapped her knuckle gently with his pen and she jerked her head. “Are you alright, do you need some water?”

“I’m only thinking,” Pamde smiled at him, reaching up to touch the back of her head as if she could feel the invisible thread. “You’ve taken my pregnancy calmly. I was worried…I thought you might have a…strong reaction.” 

“I am very happy for you, Padme.” Bail took her free hand, smiling, “And envious but this is not the time to panic at this news. As you say, the galaxy is too much caught up in the conflict to lose our cool over a baby.” 

“I nearly did.” Padme laughed, hollow. “I think I did….I, since the father died.”

“Anakin?” Bail asked softly and she felt her heart freeze in its beat. She nodded and Bail’s grip on her hand tightened. “I am sure there are no words of comfort for you right now, Padme. I am sure there is nothing I could say to make you feel better and I wish there was”

“Don’t,” she forced out, “Please, don’t say anything. I can’t…stop. We need to focus. The appropriations bill can’t get passed tomorrow.” 

“Chancellor Palpatine will not be pleased,” Bail cautioned her, “he is resting much on this.” 

“I don’t care. I don’t’ care anymore. I don’t. I will burn the senate down. I can’t have my son growing up in a war. I won’t have it. He will be a happy child. He will be loved and…and that is not possible with the galaxy at war.” 

“Padme, I’m telling you this because if you set out to do this you will lose all of the support Naboo has in the senate. The other senators will not be happy and it is possible you will be shut out.” 

“I am well-aware of what could happen.” Padme ground out, glaring at the distant senate dome. “I am sick of politics and profit and prestige get in the way of progress. This war will end. I will…Bail. I will make this peace happen. Doing what is right might not be popular right now but it is necessary.” 

“Of course,” Bail agreed. “Now, to stop the bill we will need the support of all of these senators. I’ve compiled a list here and.” 

“This is not all we have to do.” Padme realized. She reached to fondle the japort snippet around her neck. “We need the publics attention again. We need civic activism. We need to get the voters out and angry.” 

“Padme?” 

“Think of it.” Padme turned to the man, “How often does your office get call from constituents?”

“Not often.” 

“How do you know what your planet wants?”

“Poll data, my wife…not much else. Come to think of it.” 

“Think of it.” Padme said and she stood to pace the length of the room. Bail smiled at the thought of how she mirrored Anakin so perfectly right now. “Senators and politicians live and die by the public opinion. If voters believe that they are being misrepresented or ignored or used then what do they do? They call, they write letters, they protest. Bail, how many senators do we know of that are profiting directly from this war?” 

“A…” He looked down at the list in front of him, “Most of the senators on this list. What do we do from that?” 

“We go to their districts. Most of them are up for election in a few months anyway. We tell people how they’ve failed them. We let the people know that they are the cause of their troubles. If the voters get new senators in those seat then we could have the votes and the people to end the war.” 

“Replacing a number of senators might not be wise, the power shift would.” 

“We get rid of Orn Free Taa first, then…” Padme paced furiously through the office and then smacked a hand into her other. “Perfect. We need to go to the root of the problem if we want to end the war. Bad senators are only a symptom, what really enables them? What really lets them get away with it?” 

“Errr.” Bail sighed, “If you really want to think of it then it would the prevailing culture of indulgence of the Core Worlds and the desire of the ‘lesser’ planets to emulate them. Upon that it would be the uncaring and cynical attitude of every citizen on Coursant. Perhaps the absolute distance between themselves and any true suffering. The lack of civic involvement.” 

“We pop the bubble.” 

“The what?”

“You just said that the people of the Core life in a comfortable, more or less, existence. All of this is isolated, the anomaly in the galaxy. We pop it.” Padme turned a nearly feral grin to Bail, “The forced acknowledgement that they have to be involved.”

“How are you planning on doing that?” Bailed asked, his rubbed his forehead as Padme continued to pace. “People, I do believe about the best in them but…we need to be honest, Padme. “

“We activate the draft.” 

Bail didn’t move, he didn’t blink. He stared at the Nudbian Senator with sightless eyes until she waved a hand in front of his face. “Bail?”

“They’d lynch us in the courtyard of the Senate dome.” 

“They could try.” 

“Padme! This…this is madness. It is genius. People never want to fight their own wars. Never.”

“No and if people suspect they might be dragged into a conflict that has no point they begin to pay attention. They would get rid of their senators. What we need.” She twisted her hand together, pacing faster. “Is write the proposal. Get it written in the next few days and propose to every senator on the list. Every senator that would benefit from the discontinued use of clones. When it proposed, and announced they will volunteer their people. Their greed will get in their own way. When these people discover they have been volunteered to fight they will not be pleased. Then, that would take care of about eighty senators. The rest we won’t be far behind once constituent take an actual look at how they have been voting in recent months.” 

“This is an excellent plan” Bail agreed, looking somewhat shell-shocked. “I did not believe you capable of such.” 

“Remember who my campaign manager was and who has been my closest friend is. Chancellor Palpatine subscribes to a darker version of political games. I have not always agreed with his tactics and now I do not agree with his politics.” 

“The Chancellor is a wise man.” 

“Even a wise man does not reach his position without compromising his integrity. Bail, I don’t want to believe that Sheev has fallen from what he believes but…I cannot accept this war any longer. I won’t, even if it means making an enemy of one of my dearest friends. Will you help me, Bail?”

“Of course,” he hastily agreed. “I’ve always wanted to be a part of a true revolution.” 

“Now.” She pulled up a datapad and began to write across the top, “our plan. First, draft the proposal to activate the draft. Second, meet with these senators to convince them to support the bill. Third, prepare the presentation of.” 

“Is this how you prepare most of your bills?” Bail asked curiously and Padme nodded. 

“The draft. Rely on the facts the relate to the senate and the Republic saving money. How they’ll save with logistic and training instead of clones and Jedi. Imply that the Jedi might use the power to their own gain. Using language to say that the military matter of the Republic must be under the sole control of the Republic.” Bail whistled in his surprise and shook his head. 

Do you intend to take any prisoners?”

Padme pressed a trembling hand to her stomach and shook her head, “I do not.” R2-D2 whistled and bumped against her leg in a gesture of droid-human solidarity.

#$#$#

It never ceased to amaze Honodo how much of an influence credits had on people. The fact she could pay an enormous sum of money and a few bags of spice and buy herself a dry-dock orbiting a tiny planet near the Black was astounding. The dry-dock was enormous but poorly stocked. It fit her destroyers and corvette though. Every single one of them going under a final system check and re-paint before being crewed and then deployed. The last of the work here would take two or three weeks and the crews that were coming up from their training would be coming in in a week. 

“It is beautiful, no?” Hondo asked, stepping up beside his mother and waving at the floating station beneath them. “Our own navy. Our own war.” 

“It is.” Honodo agreed. “My finest achievement to date.” 

“Eh? What about me?” 

“Bah, don’t be foolish. Are you a dry dock work 3.2 million credits? Are you a corvette with a crew in the thousands? Are you Jedi with a heart? Eh? Are you a military genius? Are you refitting those hangers to accommodate our stolen ships? No! You are not. You are a fool. A drinker and partier.” 

“Mama!” Honodo turned away from her son, glaring at the space station. “You cannot mean it.” 

“No, not really.” She conceded, “but you shape up and become the pirate and weequay you were meant to be or you will be beneath all of these things.” 

“I knew you hated me. Just like Papa.” 

“Eh, who needs a coward as a father?”

“I could have used him if you hadn’t shot him.” 

“He was not useful to anyone.” Honodo began to scroll through her datapad, “Couldn’t even get a decent lay out of him.” 

“You got me.” Hondo said cheerfully, smacking the console, “and I have given you a host of grandchildren. Dume, he is cute. You like his humanness and then that little Skywalker. He can be your grandson if you want him. I will go find you more if you want.” 

“No, do not bother. I do not want them anymore. Go away.” 

“Mama! Have you ever been satisfied once in your life? Goodness.” Hondo dramatically held his head and pretended to sob. 

“Once,” Honodo said after due consideration, “After a passionate night with a Jedi named Plo Koon. A kel-dor. They are excellent lovers.”

“Yes, yes.” Hondo agreed, “it is a shame they never leave their home world. We could use more of them.” 

“Aside from discussing excellent kel-dor lovers and your various failings, what did you want?”

“Ouch, you wound me, Mama.” 

“Get to it.” Honodo order and Hondo shrugged. 

“How is Skywalker going to free the slaves? Eh? He is one person?’ One little human. One very messed up human.” 

“That is fine. He is messed up. As human go he is very messy but…he is not the only one down there. He is not the only person with his goals?”

“Mama! You scandalize me. Slaves living out in the hopes of freeing themselves? It is impossible. No, but…what if that is not enough?” 

“Do you know the literal translation of the Basic word ‘Human’ into Quayan?” Honodo asked her son, turning to wave at the work being done beneath them. “Do you know what it means in our language?”

“Human?” Hondo ventured and laughed awkwardly along with his mother when she began to chuckle. 

“No, ah…no. It means ‘the burning people’. That, son, is what makes Anakin Skywalker victorious. That is what will make him…succeeded. He is one of the burning people. Now, I am not often give to those human emotions…and poetry but…you must admit! It does have credence to it!” 

“Yes.” Hondo considered Skywalker for a moment. “It does.”

$#$#$#

“A conclusion this council has reached.” Master Yoda stared gravelly out at the assembled councilmen, masters, and knights. Plo Koon set a calming hand on Ahsoka’s shoulder. “And at the behest of the Chancellor. Mount a rescue of Master Windu we will.” Ahsoka took a deep breath and shook her head as muttering broke out. 

“We intend to do this,” Depa Billaba added, “In the next few days. We know where Master Windu is being kept and we have a plan to rescue him.” More muttering broke out and Plo Koon raised a hand.

“As much as it would please me to rescue our friend there are several legal concerns with his action.” Plo said and the other councilmen turned to him, surprised. “My friends, Master Windu has surrendered in all due course of the laws of war. Laws he swore to uphold when he became a general. Laws we have all sworn to uphold when we took out military posts. To snatch Mace Windu from prison would be a direct violation of these laws.” 

“Rescue him, we should not?”

“I caution against using this tactic, fellow Masters. This could have significant repercussions for the Jedi order.” With his pieces said, Plo Koon leaned back into his seat and patted Ahsoka’s hands. 

“Noted, your argument is.” Yoda nodded to the kel-dor an, “at the behest of the Chancellor, this is. A priority, Windu’s rescue is.” If Plo Koon was upset he did not show it but as the rest of the argument continued around him, he remained silent. Ahsoka didn’t speak either, her eyes were focused on each of the different masters arguing and what was being said. She wasn’t sure why didn’t add anything herself. 

She did catch sight of Master Kenobi. He wasn’t Obi Wan any more. He hadn’t spoken or looked at her since the fateful senate incident. Ahsoka almost felt vindicated in his misery. As composed as he was trying to look, Obi Wan still looked awful.   
Dark cirles ran around his eyes, his face was waxen and pale. There was a feverish light in his eyes and a sunken circle in his cheeks. He looked like he’d lost weight too. Anakin’s death had rattled him terribly. 

Anakin’s death had rattled everyone. Though, Ahsoka at least had someone to help her. Anakin must have been Obi Wan’s last anchor in the real world. Even the younglings and crechelings noticed Skywalker absence. They watched the door in anticipation as if expecting him to come through with banned sweets and illegal stories. 

“Little one.” Her new master pulled on her arm to get her attention and Ahsoka leaned down. “I would like you to visit the Senate. Visit Organa and Amidala and see if they will tell you of any new bills being passed through. If not, then check the senate registry of bills.” Ahsoka frowned but the Kel-dor gave her an affectionate squeeze to her hand and she relented. 

“Anything else?” 

“If you would stop by Dex’s to pick up our dinner order I would much appreciate it.” 

“But, Master,” she whispered, “What about the….?”

“I promise you that we will discuss it over dinner, little one.” She didn’t need to see his eyes and mouth to know that he was smiling kindly. 

“Alright.” She excused herself politely, ignoring the burn of Obi Wan’s gaze against her back, and vanished into the hallway.

It took the kel-dor a few more minutes to have the council chambers empties of anyone who wasn’t on the council and once he had, he turned, “We cannot break Windu out of prison.”

Kit Fisto watched him carefully and turned to Stass Allie, “Master Plo Koon may be correct. As integral as Master Windu is to the Order we may invite more trouble if attempt to break him out.” 

“It would invite disaster to the Order.” Plo continued and ignored Yoda’s serious frown. “To publicly flaunt this precieved immunity from the law would only allow Dooku more ammunition to use against the order.” 

“My student, Dooku was. This, he would not.” 

“Perhaps, but we also presumed that no student of yours could truly become a dark-sider. Since this is not the case we cannot make any foolish assumptions of Dooku’s intent.” There was a distinct air of muffled surprise as each master in the room shifted to see if Yoda would be insulted. 

“Hmmm.” The old Jedi remained silent before nodding, “Inform the Chancellor, Master Kenobi will. Of our decision.” Yoda said finally. “Much to be done, there is still is. A war still rages across the stars. Master Kenobi, after this meeting, inform the Chancellor.”

“Of course, Master Yoda.” The human nodded and the meeting carried on. Plo Koon carefully shielded his thoughts and padd screen from the other masters as he re-read the message that had been waiting on his padd that morning. 

#$#$# 

Ahsoka made her way through the senate dome as the entire building buzzed with secrecy. There were a hundred lies and schemes going on at any given moment in this building. Most of them hidden from her by the shroud in the force and most of them didn’t interest her. 

Anything on the secrets of the senate she could get from her friend.

“Hi!” She waved at Captain Panka who stood guard outside padme’s door. “Can you tell her Padawan Tano’s here to see her?” 

“Sure thing, kid.” The man was gone for a minute. Ahsoka mentally counted the lines of decoration over the door as she waited. He returned a moment later with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, Padawan Tano. Senator is in a confidential meeting and cannot be interrupted at this time.” 

“But I’m a Jedi.” She blinked, leaning back in surprise. 

“Be that as it may, Padawan Tano,” the human smiled at her. She did not feel re-assured. “I am not permitted to let you enter. Senator Amidala sends her regrets and wishes to invite you to dinner tomorrow evening at the Naboo Consulate.”

“Oh,” she’d always been allowed in to see Senator Amidala whenever she came by for a visit. “Ok, what time.” 

“At eight in the evening, if you please.” 

“Okay, thanks.” She stepped away from the door, more than a little hurt. Captain Panka kept his pity for the girl under wraps and watched her wander off down the hall, surprised. 

Ahsoka met the same answer from the guards outside Bail Organa’s office and made her way down to the senate registry to find the list of bills going on to vote on in the next week or so. On her way down she missed Master Obi Wan on his way up. 

$$%$%$

“Master Kenobi.” Chancellor Palpatine was a little surprised at the appearance of the Jedi Master. It had only been a week since he’d last seen the man and he only ever came by with Skywalker. Palpatine had to take a moment to remember that Anakin Skywalker was dead. “A surprise, what can be done for you. I must say, I am surprised to see you.” 

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” Kenobi’s bow was disgraceful but Palpatine thought with the proper motivation and work he could get Kenobi on bended knee. 

“Of course, my friend. I always have time for you.” Obi Wan looked terrible which was perfect. “Mina, bring the Jedi some tea. He looks dead on his feet. Please,” he guided the drooping man to the couch and let him sit. “Oh, goodness. I knew they were running you ragged but I hadn’t imagined it to end this poorly.” 

“I am perfectly fine,” lied Kenobi, waving off the Chancellor, “I simply have a report from the council I was asked to convey to you as soon as possible.” 

“Oh, of course. After the tea, though.” 

Obi Wan shifted but did not disagree. When Mina had left them in relative silence and the tea had been poured did the man speak again. 

“Forgive me, Chancellor. This will be unpleasant news.” Kenobi sipped his tea. “The council has decided against going forward with the rescue of Mace Windu.”

The entire senate building was in flames. The Jedi Order dead and murdered in their beds, every child and master slaughtered in their venerable halls. Every single enemy of his was cowering in fear. The galaxy trembled and….Palpatine smiled through his burgeoning rage.

“Of course. If it is not too much trouble, why? I had thought that they had far more regard for Master Windu than to allow him to rot in a Separatist prison.”

“I…it is the matter of the legal concerns. Master Windu has surrendered under the Mandalore Rules of War. If we break him out of prison then he would violate his prisoner parole. The masters fear this may be inviting more trouble than we desire.” 

“Hmmm. Well, I can’t say that I approve.” Palpatine stood and moved back to his desk as Obi Wan took another sip of tea.

“Chancellor.” 

“I had thought they might have changed since the death of Skywalker.” He feigned distress and sighed. “How many more Jedi will die preventable deaths at the hand of that madman, Dooku?” 

“Sir.” 

“I should not be surprised of this, I suppose. After all, it was the Council’s weakness that lead to Anakin Skywalker’s death.” He paused. “I’m sorry, I must be bringing up memories you do not want stirred.” 

“Chancellor, is your faith in the council shaken?” Obi Wan blinked at him weakly and Palpatine could have skipped with joy. 

“No, my friend.” He let the lie show. “Not at all.”


	11. Investigators

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin is the catalyst for a slave revolution.  
> Lord Vader emerges onto the scene.

Anakin arrived at Jabba’s Palace just as the suns were beginning to rise. Just as the sky was lit with pink and orange, igniting a fire of color across the horizon. Just as the kitchen slaves were beginning to cook, and just as the work crews were being roused. 

The security was good but Anakin was better. His life as a Jedi had prepared him with the necessary skills for breaking and entering into the most secure places in the galaxy. He was more than ready for what he was sent here to do. 

First, he located the offices of Bib Fortuna. There, he found the override command keys for every slave transmitter that Jabba owned and deactivated the chips with a vengeful grin. A few moments of programming later, he made his work impossible to over-ride or reverse. He deactivated cameras and motions sensors around Jabba’s vaults and the safety features on Jabba’s hover sled. 

From the office, leaving Fortuna’s cooling body in the closet, he snuck to the basement where the torture droids were engaged. He cut them to pieces, his hobbled together lightsaber nearly invisible in the dim light. 

With his usual flair for dramatics that he’d denied having for years, Anakin slipped from the corners of the throne room and stood carefully in the center, right before Jabba. 

He waited there, his face and head covered ominously in a way meant to inspire fear. His clothes no longer those of a Jedi but those of a freed slave. Anakin Skywalker was finally where he belonged. The throne room roused slowly and quietly. People waking up lazily and moving about only to be transfixed by the stranger standing in the center of the room. 

The strange little creature that hung out around Jabba, woke up the enormous Hutt with his screaming and cackling. Pointing at the man and jabbering in the sleeping Hutts audial receptors. 

“Jabba.” Anakin greeted patiently in huttesse as the enormous slug began to wake up. He blinked water and mucky eyes clear to focus dimly on the human in front of him.

{Who are you?} Jabba must have been spiced out of his mind to have such difficulty focusing. 

 

“I am Vader.” Anakin told him and the room rippled with a vibrating sort of intensity. “For those of this galaxy that you and your kind has abused and harmed I am bringing the wrath of the righteous upon you.”

Jabba, not nearly awake enough to follow the conversation but waking up quickly, shouted for his men to shoot the intruder. 

Anakin moved. Igniting his black lightsaber and hurling himself at the enormous slug. With a clean swipe, he separated Jabba’s head from his body and whirled around to deflect a dozen blaster shots back into bodies. 

He sank deeply into the force, moving one with every intention he’d carried for years. Moving into the motions of his long-ago learned katas Anakin soon reduced the enemies in the now simmering with blood and violence throne room to none. 

In the center of the death, Anakin glanced from the dead hutt to the doorway where two low level bounty hunters stood. They gaped at him and he raised his gloved hand. 

“Tell them,” he ordered, “tell the galaxy. Tell the stars and the planets and the suns. Tell them that Lord Vader has come. Tell them, the galaxy will belong to him.” Using the Force he tossed a good sized stone at them, one that had become detached from the wall during his fight. It was all they needed, the two were galvanized into the action. Screaming and shrieking as they stumbled over themselves to escape. 

#$#$#$

Something had changed. Kitster felt a shiver run through his spine, a shake in his arms, and a buzz in his heart as the suns began to reach their zenith. Limping, he edged his way to the window overlooking the street and glanced out. 

Nothing. No one was in the streets. 

Not a single person was wandering down the dusty paths. No vendors, no workers, no slaves, no slavers. 

Kitster stared a moment longer before something, something he could see or touch, gently tugged him back toward the bed. He went willingly, allowing the unseen person to pull the blanket back over him. 

Something had happened. He could feel it. 

#$#$#$#

An unseen signal, one Anakin hadn’t contrived, went out from the moment the last of Jabba’s goons were tossed into the pit of sarlacc for disposal. 

He hadn’t done it. He hadn’t been here since his mother died. Still, the second word got out that Jabba was gone, he felt the entire planet ignite. Long smoldering magma beneath the surface, the fear and the terror that every slave felt, exploded into direct action. 

He could sense it, feel the flames in his chest. The energy that burned around him, nearly agonizing as it licked over his skin, burrowing into his bones. He shivered, standing at the entrance of Jabba’s palace, surrounded by the newly freed slaves. He wasn’t aware he was glowing, his form surrounded by the same fire that ignited every nerve in his body. Not a single shadow existed near him in the bright of Tattoine’s mid-day. He burned as if he’d been touched by the suns themselves. Somehow brighter and darker than the sky above. 

Anakin could feel it. The changes that began a new course for history. Changes that had effects all the way to the core. All the way to the senate. Far into the future. 

#$#$#

The ship beneath her observation craft gleamed with deadly purpose, glowing in the soft starlight, and the industrial lamps that set the bright red paint off into a burnished flame. It was ready, the new piece of her armada. The shining headpiece to her crown. The jewel in her collection. 

Honodo Ohnaka could smell the anticipation rolling off the crewmembers beneath the armor, taste the bloodlust. All of them trained and ready to burn the galaxy before them. 

“Boss!” 

“Henchman!” She turned, spreading her arms and smiling. “What is it?”

“Reports from our men!” The togruta handed off a flimsy, “apparently, someone killed Jabba the Hutt a few weeks back. There’s a nasty power vacuum on right now that’s consuming huge amounts of the dustball he lived on.”

“Nice!” 

“Yeah, some guy named Vader is in charge.”

“Even better? Has the Republic gotten wind of this yet?”

“They should, we have some of the same people.” 

“Excellent. What all is out there?”

“We only know that Vader is some guy with powers who killing Hutts. From what I can tell? Tatooine is free! They only took a day. I don’t know how it happened but after Jabba was killed the whole planet caught fire!” 

“HA! I wonder if the Republic is shaking in their boots yet?”

3$#$#

“We received reports from the Outer Rim that Jabba the Hutt is dead.” The assembled Jedi, Republic generals, and Chancellor Palpatine all looked with askance at the man standing in the center of the room. “Um, sirs and ladies and non-specified beings…this is alarming. The pirates we picked this report up from told us that this man…is coming.”

“Coming for what?” Asked Adi Gallia. 

“He..his name is Lord Vader. He carried a black lightsaber.” Several senators looked at the Jedi and the Jedi looked befuddled. “He just told them that he was coming. Coming for them. They were almost incoherent. We believe he may be attempting to seize control of the Jabba’s assests. We’ve also received reports of a significant drop in transports of slaves in the last month or two. They’ve been dropping steadily for a while now but we only just noticed.” 

“Illegal, slavery is.” Yoda said, glancing at a senator across the room. “Good news this is.”

“I suppose but this may destabilize our trade routes.” 

“It could,” Palpatine said, “the huts have their own planateary enforcers though. I am sure that they would manage to eliminate this…Lord Vader before he begins to cause any real trouble.” 

“I want to know why he carried a lightsaber.” Said Senator Chuchi, “There have been no Jedi fallen since Count Dooku, have there?”

“No,”Adi said quietly, thinking hard. “There have been no Fallen since the count. This…Vader person isn’t a Jedi. He may be connected to the Sith we’ve been hunting.” 

“A sith lord?” Palpatine said, looking shocked. “I was under the impression that they had died on Naboo during the Trade Crisis.” 

“Two there always are. No more, no less.” Said Yoda. “Killed the student or the master, we do not know. Vader, a sith he may be.” 

“I have never known a Jedi to carry a black lightsaber.” Chuchi muttered, “Master Jedi, is it possible that there is a Jedi unaccounted for?”

“It is possible.” Gallia said, “if unlikely. That one of the Jedi could have fallen off the map and then Fall. Though, he may be connected to Darth Maul.” 

“This Lord Vader cannot continue.” Palpatine said, alarmed, “please, tell me you have some investigators who can search for and stop this maniac.” 

“We have a team.” Adi nodded, “I know exactly who can hunt this Lord Vader down and investigate the pirates claim.”

#$#$#

“Who are we investigating and why are we leaving at two in the morning?” Ahsoka asked as she blearily stumbled away from her bed. 

“The newest rise of concern on the outer rim, my little padawan.” Plo Koon told her, “I would not have disturbed you but this has come from the highest power.” 

“Hmm,” Confused, she slipped into her robes and cloak. She looked to find her bag already packed. “Uh, Master?”

“I packed for you before I woke you. I wanted to make sure you got some sleep. I will give you the dossier when we reach hyperspace.”

 

“Hmm, kay.” Ahsoka staggered after her master. She fell asleep in the co-pilots seat, only waking up again once her master carefully held a cup of caf beneath her nose. “Hey, is that for me?” 

“Yes, if you sit up.”

“Where are we?” 

“Hyperspace, headed toward a hub of information. Some of my best informants live there. “

“Okay,” Ahsoka slurped her caf, “Who are we hunting.” 

“We are investigating,” Plo Koon handed her a file, “a man name Lord Vader. He is said to carry a black lightsaber and wield the force.” 

“A black lightsaber, the only one I know about is the Darksaber and that’s in Jedi custody.” 

“It is not the Darksaber,” Plo Koon said, “It is the lightsaber and it is carried by someone who could be a sith, Lord Vader.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all will be explain. Don't worry.


	12. Politics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heavy handed politics in this one but important to the plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW. mentions of child abuse and a lot of casual murder in this one.

The wonderful thing about spice gangs on the outer rim was that they didn’t have the safety regulations or the strict purity requirements that the ones in the Core did. 

That wonderful fact meant that spice lairs and labs were easy to blow up. 

It meant that Hondo could blow up a few millions credits worth of spice and henchmen in two minutes. 

“Sn’t right.” Grumbled the pirate to his left, “all that money going up in flames.” 

“We will earn back kirfftuple that much soon enough, my friend.” Honodo observed the spicers sections of Nar Shadda burning. Random explosions of various spice mixes sent multicolored flames into the air. A nasty looking building, that had been burning for only a few minutes, began to teeter. Screaming from below was followed by a jarring silence. “It is good that the street rats and such knew to clear out. 

“Can you believe we just offed eight different gang leaders in one night?” His partner asked. “What now?” 

“Now? My friend! These fools will squabble and fight! They will divide the territory among themselves and then we will eat them.” 

“While they fight we clean them up? 

“Yes! Soon, what is left of the gangs will be going to spaceports and hideouts. They will look for ships and treasure and money and then we will take that too! Eh, more ships for the fleet.” 

“We need pilots!” 

“Yes! We do!” Hondo beamed at her and slung an arm around her shoulder, “yes, yes. Ships and pilots to pilot them. I do not know how to do that yet.” 

“Ask people?” Hondo snorted. “You are beautiful but brainless!” 

“You are stupid,” like water dropped on water, her mood evaporated and her balster was jammed again Hondo’s side. “People do not always want to be criminals. People do not always want to suffer from criminals. Gangs mostly, slavers too. Look, you go to any twi’lek lady with half an hour in the flying sim and tell her that you’ll help her get rid of the gangs coming after her. I bet you a hundred credits she’s going to take up the opportunity. It’s a chance to die fighting than to become some victim. Eh?” 

“That is brilliant.” Hondo ignored the blaster in his chest and dropped to one knee. “Marry me! Beautiful one! I have misjudged too carelessly.” 

“Your mother is the Boss!” She shouted, her blaster now in his face. “How can you be this stupid?” 

“Eh?” Hondo shrugged, “I am very stupid. It is agreed upon. Please, marry me!” 

“You will have to talk to my wife first.” She snapped, “let’s go find some pilots.”

“What did you do before you were in the gang?” Hondo asked, jumping up and following on her heels. Her back was to him and her mangled coat was flaring with every stomp. She led him down the building and into a street that oozed muck. 

“A cop.” She grunted back and Hondo nearly burst into laughter. 

“A cop? How?”

“I am good at details,” she muttered, “the ones most people miss. In a homicide unit on Corellia before the war got started.” 

“So how’d you get out?” 

“I didn’t get out. I got kicked out. Too suspicious to have a weequay on the force. We’re going to the Corellian sector of this planet.” 

“Corellians! I love them! Drinkers, pilots, wonderful people. They have the best parties!” 

“They are also the loosest people in the galaxy.” The ex-detective said, “come on, we’ve got some recruiting to do.” The streets turned from gross to less gross. The houses and store-fronts loosing the mix of Huttese and Basic that characterized them and adopted the phonetic alphabet of the Corellian sector. Disreputable bars turned into slightly less disreputable bars. 

She stopped in front of one that looked a lot like the ones they had left behind near the spicers sector. 

“Come on in.” 

“What’s in here?” Hondo, who only had half of what his partner was planning, followed in into the bar. It wasn’t one he’d like. The lights were too low, the music soft(ish) and there was no one dancing. It was a place to drink and wallow not drink and party. 

“Someone. I don’t know for sure but this is the place to go.” She moved into the room and pushed back her tricorn hat to take a better look at the mostly human crowd. “Hmm, who here looks nasty?” 

“All of them?” Hondo offered. “Do you want me to sit back and watch? Oh! Oh! Do I get to play henchmen today? Please tell me that is a yes! I love roleplay.” 

“Yes,” she glanced back and forth from him to a section of the bar that was even lower lit than normal. Hondo grumbled and pulled down his goggles to light up the scene. Weequays had weak night vision and he just knew that the Corellians were doing this on purpose. “Call me Ida.” 

“Is that your name?” He asked and admired the particular way she threatened to ruin his anatomy. It was nearly poetic and he bowed at her irritated glower.

“You are an ass.” She said as she strode up to a densely packed table. It held a number of human males of varying ages and a single wookie female. Still holding her conversation with Hondo; Ida shoved a man from his seat and took it, propping her boots up on the table. “A complete rancor’s mouth.” 

“I am an ass.” Hondo agreed, taking up a spot at her shoulder and surveying the humans that watched the argument with little interest. “Agreed. I am an ass. From now on I will have to known as that! Ass!” 

“Yes,” Ida glanced at the humans, noting the one that had to be the leader. He had a tight grip on a small human’s shoulder. A child of eight or so years. A dark bruise ran down the side of his face but his brown eyes were full of fury and life. “I need pilots,” she said.

“You’re in the wrong place, lady. You took my buddies seat.” The human she’d shoved to the side was looming at her. He gave an ugly grin, “you’ll have to give it back.” 

Ida considered that course of action before shooting the man. He collapsed at Hondo’s feet, a smoking hole in his head. 

“Now,” She blew at the smoking end of her blaster and holstered it again, “I need pilots.”

“Course,” the human nodded. He eyed the fresh corpse with interest. “let me get the lady a drink.”

“Pan-galactic gargle blaster,” Ida ordered, “Ass, go get me one.” Hondo, enjoying himself, went. 

“I’ll take the bill.” The human offered and Ida laughed. 

“No! The gargle blaster has enough power without you adding some salt-tricks to it.” 

“That’s quite a drink for a little lady.” 

“Eh? You’re a confident one for a baby human.” 

“I am not a baby!” The eight year old shouted across the table only to yelp as the man gripping his arm yanked him closer and hissed a few threats in his ear. 

“I was meaning him. How old are you, ten…maybe fifteen in human years? Someone should give you back to your mama and papa, baby pilot. Give you a time out and a spanking.” The older human flushed and the men around the table chuckled at his expense. The younger one bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing but his eyes sparkled. 

“Who the hells do you think you are?” His glare deepened and his dropped his grip on the kid. His hand reached for his blaster, a clear threat that didn’t interest Ida. 

“Depends on who the Boss do you think you are?” 

“I’m Garris Shrike! Boss of my own gang, I’ve got pilots coming out of my ass! A bounty hunter too, I bet you’re worth at least a little cash. Even for a old ball sack like you.” 

“Well, that is dandy.” Ida wondered what was with human males and comparing things to their genitalia. It wasn’t even interesting genitalia and they seemed totally obsessed with it. Even Hondo, as crass as he was, didn’t bring it up nearly as often as the so called ‘polite’ human men did. Didn’t bring it up at all, in fact. “And I’m sure that you’re just the most and best gang leader on Corellia.” The wookie took this opportunity to snort. 

“You,” Garris snarled, “shut your furry trap or you’ll be a nice wall-hanging.” 

“Hey!” Apparently not silenced for long, the kid jumped to her defense. “You can’t talk to Dewlanna like that!” 

“Shut up, kid. I’m in the middle of business.” He smacked the boy across the head, sending him reeling into another man and turned back to Ida who was watching the scene, fascinated. “Get on with your business. Talk or I’ll throw your wrinkled ass out.” 

“Hmph, well.” She accepted the drink from Hondo and surveyed the bright yellow drink. “I am representing someone who is venturing into a new investment scheme. A long term one and she needs pilots. Good ones.” 

“So?” 

“It is…profitable. It should prove to be, least ways.” She sipped her drink. Garris was glancing between his men. They were frowning but they all missed out the little human had extracted himself from the grip of the other human was now standing right next to the wookiee. Dewlanna was running a paw over his head, checking for injuries and making soft noises of concern. “The best pilots. I know that since…you’re aware that the spicers sections of Nar Shadda just went up in flames, a number of them will be looking for new employment. You will be getting a lot of calls. I want you to send me half the pilots that call.” 

“You do?” Garris wasn’t very good at hiding the greed in his eyes. He might be one of the scariest men on Corellia but Ida had once drunkenly seduced a Nightsister. There wasn’t anything scarier than waking up to find the Night Mother looming over you. “I know that whole spicers space just went up but I’m not investing in any scheme that I don’t profit from.” 

“You could profit from it. We all would, every pilot that joins. Every crewmember, every gunslinger! Eh! We will all be rich!” Ida lied cheerfully. The best this man was going to get was an unmarked grave and that was if she was feeling generous. “Money to go around!” 

“I’m not stupid,” Garris said, folding his arms and proving himself wrong by tucking his blaster away. “Not everyone can get rich off a scheme. And I know that someone’s been knocking off an awful lot of spicers recently. Don’t deal much in the stuff myself but…I’ve lost some nice friends. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?” 

“Me?” Ida could feel the suddenly heavy weight of the detonator button in her pocket, “no. I am a recruiter. Ass here, he is my little friend to help.” Hondo waved and Ida surveyed her drink some more.

“Are you interested?”

“Not really. Seems like that if I keep my stuff and anyone coming to me then I don’t have to worry about any competition.” 

“No competition! You are very stupid, human. Competition keeps the market healthy! It is good for business!” 

“Hmph,” the human chuckled and then began to laugh. The others around the table began to laugh too, though a bit more awkwardly and a lot less forcefully. “Get out of my bar,” Garris ordered, his laughter dying down to a flat snarl. “Take your little toy with you.”

Hondo made a noise of amusement and Ida grinned, bright and dangerous. “We’re leaving, we’re leaving. Thanks for the time.” She drained her drink and tossed the glass to Shrike. Without another word she left the dingy bar followed closely by Hondo. 

“I know that wasn’t a waste of time,” Hondo said once they were down the street, “but it sure looked like a waste of time.” 

“I know. Thank you, for being my henchman.” 

“I enjoy not having the burdens of power sometimes.” Hondo said agreeably. They paused in front of a store. A genius had set up a bakery right next to a smoking den. Ida and Hondo stepped into line behind a huddled crowd of slightly doped up humans. “Besides, Mama does need new commanders and people to help her. This scheme is big.” Hondo twirled a few braids about and laughed, “I will give you a promotion.” 

“Fine,” she said, “but you’re buying this.” They stepped up to the window as a human wandered off with a box of treats he was probably going to lose to one of the orphans running through the streets in a matter of minutes. 

“Hello!” The too cheerful human showed two rows of pure white teeth. Despite herself, Ida was impressed. Hondo too. 

“You have very white teeth.” She complimented and the human winked at her. “I like your color, it is like mine.” 

“Thank you,” the human preened, “what can I get for you tonight?” 

“Five loaves of your beautiful Corellian bread with the little…black things in it. What is the word? I know this word in basic. Hondo, what is it?” 

“Eh? I do not know. What are those little black things?” Hondo crowded at the window with her, squinting at the little black dots intersperced among the loaves. 

“They’re called.” 

“No, don’t tell us.” Hondo waved him off, “we need to figure this out.” He ducked closer to Ida and they held a whispered conference in Wekan. “Ah!” He brightened and pointed imperiously. “rasins!” 

“Yes,” the human laughed agreeably. “They are. Did you need anything else?”

“Yes,” Ida pointed at a tray of cookies. “those.”

“All of them?” Ida nodded. Hondo looked back on the line behind them. All of the humans were whining at the same pitch. All of them were glassy eyed and slack faced. As the shop attendant began packaging the cookies one of the humans began to cry and another followed suit. Soon, the whole line was leaning over in varying states of distress. As he paid and winked at the attendant the man’s smile vanished and he glared at the pair of weequays leaving him with a line of sobbing drug addicts and with no cookies to sell to them to shut them up. 

“Yes,” Hondo said, they walked away from the bakery and toward the space ports. “You need a promotion.”

They didn’t make it another five steps before the eight year old jumped out from an alley and held out his hand. “Stop.” He boy ordered and the centuries old pirates did as requested.

“Hello,” Ida said, she dug her hand into the box and produced a cookie. The boy’s eyes tracked it for a second before forcing himself to look directly at Ida. “What do you want?”

“I’m a pilot,” he said. “I can fly good. I can fly for you.” 

“Eh?” Hondo could just picture his mother’s reaction if he brought back another scarred human child. The ribbing would be historic. “A pilot, aren’t you too short?”

“Nope.” The boy shook his head, “I’m a great pilot.”

“And here was me think you were Shrike’s.” Brown eyes flashed and Ida had to admire’s the brats gumption. 

“I’m not Shirke’s anything.” He snapped and they all turned as the ugly laughter the followed that statement. 

“You’re mine, Han.” Garris emerged from the alley behind him, grinning at Hans horrified stared. “And you thought I wouldn’t notice you running off? Eh? You think I didn’t see. I saw you when you were toddler.” The malignant hiss was interrupted by Hondo. 

“Like we’re seeing you now.” He laughed, “Eh, Ida, look at the toddler!” 

“I’m seeing it,” she agreed and looked from Han to Garris. Shrike was reaching for him, the threat of violence clear. “Eh, what do you say? Take the kid up on his offer?” 

“This street brats only skill is stealing.” Shrike said, pausing. “He’s not a pilot, he’s my thief and he’s coming with me. You’ll see what you get for messing with my crew, whore.” 

“Whore? Ah, you see.” Ida considered the enormous shadow looming behind Garris. “That is just too much. You insult me by calling me such a silly human word. My people have no concept of this…this…whore. We call them people who are having a good time. But I do not like you so…good bye.” Garris was fast but Ida was faster. His shot went wild as enormous gray paws wrapped around his neck and pulled him against a wide chest. A smoke hole erupted in his heart. He gagged and hissed and then went silent as a sickening crack echoed over the street. Shrike’s head lolled to the side at an awkward angle and the wookiee dropped him to the dirt. 

“Ah, beautiful tree one! How are you tonight?” 

[You will not be leaving with Han.] She snarled, claws extending and enormous teeth bared. Han stared between the weequays and the wookiee. 

“He did want to take me up on my job offer.” Hondo said.

[No.]

“Then what about you? What skills do you have? I will pay you money and lodging is free.” 

[No.]

“Are you so certain?” Hondo asked, tilting his head to look at the eight-year-old. “You just killed a gangster. One with a lot of money, I guess.” 

“Dewlanna’s a pilot,” Han piped up, “and a cook and she’s great at Sabacc. She’s the one who found my last name. Tell ‘em Dewlanna! You’re great. I’m great!” 

“This, despite how we presented it to Shrike, is not actually a scam. WE are looking for capable pilots and I’m sure you,” Hondo nodded to the still bristling wookiee, “don’t want to be around when word gets out that you killed this gangster. 

[I will not let Han become the puppet of another gang or some tool. You will leave.]

“Dewlanna!” Han grabbed onto her fur, staring beseechingly up. “Come on, we need a new job. We just dusted our last one. Please, can’t we at least check it out?” 

“Lodging is free,” Ida ticked off points on her finger tip, “food is free, medical is free, prosthetics are free if the needs arise. You get the ship for free, we just ask you to pilot it where we want you to pilot it. We even have a day care for the little human. There are lots of other little humans there too.” 

“I don’t need daycare!” Han yelped, “Dewlanna, tell them I don’t need a day care. I’m a good pilot too!” 

[This is too good. You are lying.]

“Are we? If it makes you feel better we will take Shrike’s whole fleet of grubby little ships and we will give them to you to command.” 

[What do you want in return?] Dewlanna was still keeping Han back by one paw but she seemed to be easing up to the idea. Probably aided by the shouting that was getting closer and closer. 

“Your skills and your contacts in the pilots of Corellia.” 

[If I don’t have any?]

“Then you’re skills!” Hondo said cheerfully. Ida waited and Han glanced between the wookiee and the weequay.

[Where is your ship?] Dewlanna finally growled and Han cheered. 

“Way past here!” Hondo said as the shouting got closer, “we’re going to need to run. Ida?” 

“Take point, boss.” She ordered, producing her much loved blaster. “Babe, you’re going to want to pick up the kid if we’re going to be running. Han’s annoyed yelp was cut off as he was hoisted into long gray arms. Hondo’s blasters were out and he led the way, sprinting through the ugly undercity of Smugglers Moon. Dewlanna on his heels and Ida on hers. 

Running was only necessary until Ida set off her secondary charges and blasted a decent sized hole on the middle of a bridge that was built over a oozing stream of muck. The survivors were then drowned in the muck. 

“A good explosion,” Hondo congratulated, finally slowing to a jog and then to a walk. His breathing was uneven and his brow was beading sweat. “Nice.” His effusiveness had been siphoned off by tiredness of the very long day they’d had. 

“Yeah,” Han congratulated. “Good job. Will you teach me to do that?”

“I don’t know,” Ida said, “come on, boss. The crews should have done their jobs while we were playing footsie with Corellian gangs.” 

“What is footsie?” Hondo asked. They moved from the Corellian section of the planet slowly, taking a hover train to the other side where the spaceports were. Han, after the excitement had faded, had fallen asleep against Dewlanna’s shoulder. He’d looked annoyed the entire time as he’d fallen asleep, a scowl fixed on his small brow even as he slept.

“I do not know.” Ida admitted once they were disembarking from the hover train and duly threatening the conductor to get out paying for their tickets. She pretended she didn’t notice the wookiee pass him a few credits. “I heard two humans mention it once. I assume it is sexual.” 

“Hm, Dewlanna, beautiful one, do you know?”

[No, I don’t want to.] She woofed and Ida nodded agreeably. 

“Humans are a very odd species. They say many stupid things.”

“Eh, Mama is fond of them. I do not know why. She admires it.” They approached a spaceport that was nearly overflowing with weequays. Most of them were bustling around and shouting at each other. “Ah, look! New ships already! Ida, my wonderful and deadly one, please take them to a place to sleep. I must go.”

“Come on,” Ida shrugged for the wookiee to follow. “We won’t be leaving Nar Shadda until our mission is done but we’re close to completion.” 

[What is this investment?]

“The details don’t go to me. I get basic mission parameters and then I figure out to be optimize my skills to get them done. Hondo knows. If you know anything about him then you know he runs the Ohnaka gang.”

[No. I don’t know him.]

“Better for us then.” Ida led her down one of the bigger ships and opened a door that led to a smaller bunk room. “Here, you’re place for the night. Hondo probably had the bread and cookies sent to the galley if you’re hungry later.”

[Umph, it will do.] She set a slumbering eight-year-old onto one of the bunks. 

“What is his name?” Ida asked, she’d removed her hat and was fiddling with the brim. “The boy, he said you have him his name?” 

[I didn’t give it to him. He had it stolen by Shrike. I retrieved it.]

“Then what is it?”

[Han Solo.] 

“Pretty big name for a little kid.”

[I guess.] Dewlanna looked at her, [why?]

“I’m going to go.” Ida pointed at the door, “good night.” 

She made her escape and then her way to Hondo. He was on a holo-call with Honodo. Ida frowned but gave a nod to the woman. “Boss.”

“Ida, you’re promoted. I like your brains.” 

“I like my brains too but we’ve got a problem.” 

“Another one!” Hondo wailed dramatically but it was pretty clear he was tired. It wasn’t nearly as loud as it would have been. 

“The boy’s name is Han Solo.” 

“Solo?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Ida, you spent more time in respectable society more recently. What does this mean?” 

“Solo was the ruling family on Corellia, the old King, before the Jedi got rid of them about ten years or so ago. It wasn’t like they had much power, more of a symbol of the system than anything. Still, the throne is still open and kinda waiting for an heir.” 

“You’re joking,” Hondo didn’t need dramatics, the idea was too fantastical. 

“No one noticed much, cept Corellia, when they were ousted. Phased out, the like. Ten to nothing I bet you that if we did a DNA scan we’d find a link right to that throne.” 

“Oh,” Honodo looked almost gleeful, “what will it take for you to be sure? What resources do you need?” 

“Just a medical scanner and my files.” 

“Why do you have the DNA records of the royal family of Corellia?” Hondo wondered and Ida shrugged. 

“One of my investigation led me to them. Lots of old money and power went missing.” 

“A coup, by the Jedi?” Honodo seized on the part of the conversation she hadn’t understood. “I did not hear of this.” 

“No one really did.” Ida said, “I did ‘cause I was attached to a violent crimes unit with Cor Sec. Truest and pure blood Corellian’s joined them and only them. When it happened it was a political nightmare. The Corellian Jedi and the government were at odds a lot of the time. Not like in the Core. I’m not clear on the details but from what I can tell is that the Corellian temple asked for advice from the Core. They got help by way of a few Jedi masters coming around and getting rid of the opposing government.” 

“That is interesting.” Honodo frowned at them, “and the throne?” 

“Still there, couldn’t get rid of it but since it’s empty and there’s no one with a claim to it…it’s just…a decoration.” 

“And if someone could claim it?” 

“Corellian’s are a bunch of nostalgic idiots,” Ida snorted, “ten to one they give him back what he’s due and then the old power of his position.” 

“I do love Corellians,” Honodo sighed, “not like Mandalore with its fighting houses and conflicting loyalties. Corellians are very straight forward. Money, ships, trading, love, drinking, adventure, good times, and their own self-inflated sense of cultural superiority. I do not know what I will do with this but it will be impressive. Anyway, Jabba the Hutt is dead. Killed by Lord Vader. The man has already taken over the world, the fires of revolution will spread with him to the next world he takes. On your next venture out, tell them all.” 

“All?” 

“All. The galaxy will tremble at the name. Some in awe and some in terror. Spread this awe and terror, son. Tell the scum that he will destroy them and tell the helpless that he will raise them from the dirt.” Honodo nodded to herself, duly satisfied. 

“Do you want me to blame the spicers on him?” 

“No, let the idea fester. By the end of your work, Nar Shadda should be ours.” 

“Wonderful! The new have a few slave traders to blow the hell out of tomorrow! Hmm, can we attack the Hutt offices?” ‘

“Do what you like. Just make sure that the rumors of Vader are spreading.” Honodo cut off the connection and the two were left standing before an empty holoprojector. 

“Who is Vader?” Ida wondered. The name sounded important and she was sure she’d heard it somewhere but wasn’t sure where. “Why is he important?” 

“An old friend who needs some help expanding his operation.” Hondo said, “but not too much because it wouldn’t be much of a challenge!”

#$#$#$

The heavy senate outfits with the layers and layers of billowing fabric easily disguised any sign that her stomach was expanding. 

Not that it was growing noticeably. Padme was just hyper-conscious of her state. 

“Senator Amidala.” Any nerves she felt vanished at the too-cool tones of Senator Dilla. The not-quite human smiled as she stepped into the office. “I was told your request was important.” 

“Yes, I do have a concern I wanted to share with you.” Padme smiled and took the proffered hand. “It is over the state of the Clones. I know you have your concerns on them to.” 

“Oh, of course. Please, would you like something to drink?” Dilla gallantly gestured her to a couch and a serving droid to take her order. 

“Just some juice if you have it.” Padme smiled, “what is your planets specialty?” Dilla blinked, almost surprised. 

“A fruit called Io. Not very sweet but a staple.” 

“Then I’d love to try it.” 

“Hmm.” Dilla waved the droid off. “Why are you here, Amidala? I would think your victory today would have been enough. Stopping that appropriations bill wasn’t enough for you?” 

Padme had been in politics long enough to appreciate when someone was being honest. She glanced around the office and took note of the bland décor and how cheap most of it was. 

“Why are you here?” 

“Come again?” Dilla leaned back in her chair as Padme leaned forward. 

“Why are you here, at the Senate? What did you want to accomplish?” 

“I’m here because my planet decided, as a collective, to write me in on the ballot. I’m here because my world’s previous senator was a corrupt bastard who sold us out.” 

“Write you in?” Padme grabbed on the detail, fascinated. 

“Yep.” The other senator looked bitter, “so I’m here. Trying to do my best for my world. I am supposed to be doing stuff right now. Useful stuff.”

“This isn’t useful?” 

“Nope.” 

“Would you like to make it useful?”

“How, this is politics. This is the galactic senate. You get paid to be useless.” 

“What do you get paid to do?” 

“At the moment, stalk the representatives from the mining guild and their loyal pets.” 

“Mining Guild?” The droid returned with the drink and set them on the table. 

“Yeah, thank you, CeeTee.”

“You’re welcome!” The droid burbled and Padme felt her heart rise in her throat. 

“Now, my world is pretty small. The only one in our sector which is why we get the pick of our senator. Problem is, the mining guilds had their eye on it. We’ve got a very profitable upper crust to our planet but excessive mining causes earthquakes and such. We figured out that our last one was letting the miners dig too much too fast after a landslide took out a town. It killed over 400 people and the guild wouldn’t take responsibility. Not only that but they were dumping contaminated water into our underwater rivers that caused an outbreak of cholera.” Padme sucked in an astonished breath. “And worse, heavy metal poisoning.” 

“Why did they choose you?”

“Well, an angry citizen bumped off the previous one and I was the…loudest protester. I guess. I was a reporter, of sorts. Wrote for one of the planets only zines. Lady, I don’t care much about the war but I want to break the mining guild. They killed a lot of my people and still won’t get off world. We’ve stalled their work but we don’t know when that is going to break.” 

“What if I could help you?” Padme took a sip of her juice and felt her stomach settle for the first time in weeks. 

“How?” Dilla didn’t look impressed but Padme forged ahead. 

“Naboo was once unlawfully attacked and blockaded by the Trade Federation.” Padme said, “when I was queen.” Dilla didn’t look impressed at the pronouncement but she raised an eyebrow to invite the woman to continue. “My planets plight was ignored by the general public and by the senate.” 

“And?” 

“We tell your story.” Padme said, inspiration seizing her. “We tell the galaxy of the abuses of the mining guild.” 

“The senate doesn’t have the power to stop them. The senate doesn’t have much power.” 

“Do you know journalists? Investigators?”

“Erm,” Dilla tilted her head to the side, “yes, a lot.”

“Can they cause a ruckus?” 

“Probably.” 

“Invite them here. Give them an interview and let them fan it into a problem.” Her excitement was bubbling, her plans all clicking into place nicely. 

“Why?” Her excitement was slightly derailed and she paused.

“Why?”

“Why do you care?”

“I always care,” she told the other woman truthfully. “I always have.”

“That’s not what I’m asking, I’m asking what your scheme is. You’ve got one, what is it?”

“What is the biggest crime in the galaxy right now?”

“Surprise me,” Dilla drained her juice and waited for Padme to formulate a reply. 

“The war.”

“And?”

“You asked what my scheme is. My scheme is to stop the war. I came here because I was aware you are not fond of it either and to get your help.” 

“The mining guilds are selling my planet for war-ships. I’m not happy with it at all.” 

“Exactly, that will stop if we stop the war.” 

“You’ve have to stop the mining guild.” 

“We’d have to stop more than that.” Padme said, “we have to get to the senators who are profiting from it. The people who vote for and protect the mining guild, they are the same. Well, most of the of them should overlap. It makes sense.” 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’m connected to a lot of journalists. I have the evidence, I have the people who can help. You want me to shove my planets problem in the face of the galaxy, I will. I’ll kick up a tantrum worth of you. What then?” 

“I will be speaking to senators who profit the most if the Republic does not acquire more clones. We get them to vote in favor for a draft.” 

“That’ll end badly.”

“Exactly. Then, we turn your journalist friends on them. Uncover and tell the galaxy of their dirty secrets. If we do it right they will not get re-elected.”

“Hmmm,” Dilla nodded, “agreed. Anything else I should know?”

“Be nice to every clone you come across.” Padme said, “and after this we do not speak in public.”

“Agreed.” Dilla pointed at her door, “You can leave now.” 

“Thank you for your time.” Padme nodded, setting down her half empty glass. “Oh, do you know where I could get more of this? It’s the only thing I’ve been able o keep down for days.” 

“I’ll send you some.” Dilla’s voice was mild, “have a nice afternoon corralling the idiots.

“I do look forward the a new political scheme,” Padme told her as she moved toward the door. “Have a nice afternoon, Senator Dilla.” As she left she heard the woman mutter. 

“I hate my job.” 

##$#$

Dilla watched the door shut behind Admidala and had to admire the woman. She was the epitome of cultural indulgence but at least she seemed to care. Reaching over to her comm she flipped it one and waited for her friend to pick up. 

“Dilla!”

“Tom, what are you doing later?” 

“I thought we were going drinking?” 

“I’ve got a job for you. It involves a potential scandal.” 

“Yes! I will take it. I’ve been short some work.” 

“Fantastic, I’ll meet you at our usual spot.” She clicked her comm off and wondered if the whole scheme would work. 

#$#

“What is the council going to do about Master Windu?” 

“nothing, still nothing.” Obi Wan sipped the tea and sighed as the chancellor shook his head. “Sir.”

“It feels like a betrayal,” Palpatine said, “leaving him to wallow in a Separatist prison. A master of their own council, jailed like a common crook. I realize that attachment are forbidden but is foolishness.” 

“I agree, it is disappointing but we must heed Master Yoda.” Palpatine nearly rolled his eyes at the idea. “Master Windu may be safer where he is. There is a war going on.”

“Yes,” he rubbed his forehead dramatically, “which has apparently given rise to another Sith.” 

“Sir?” Obi Wan perked up for the first time since the conversation had begun. 

“Oh, I shouldn’t have mentioned it.” He lied, turning to Obi Wan and pretending sheepish. “It was a closed meeting discussion.”

“Sith? Another one?” Obi Wan pressed for detail. “What sith?” 

“Ah, Master Kenobi.”

“What sith?” He snapped and Palpatine repressed the urge to strangle him. 

“One on the outer rim. Very new. He killed Jabba the Hutt and seems to be taking over his empire. I…there is an idea that he is attempting to establish a Sith Empire.” 

“A sith empire? How? Do we even know if he’s force sensitive?” 

“He goes by the name Vader and he wields a black lightsaber.” Palpatine said bit dryly. “If he joins forced with Dooku then who knows if the war will ever end? If he joins with Dooku, who knows the fate of Master Windu.” He affected a concerned tone, “I suppose that Master Yoda will have to fix this then.” 

“I have heard nothing of a new Sith.” Obi Wan looked shell shocked, dropping his mental barriers enough for Palpatine to give him a whisper of an idea. “Excuse me, Chancellor, I am needed back at the temple.” 

“Of course, Master Kenobi. I should not have kept you so long. My apologies.” Kenobi bowed and left and Palpatine leaned back in his chair. 

Dooku would have to kill Windu in the escape attempt and capture Kenobi. He could break the Jedi all too easily.   
Skywalker he might have lost but gaining someone with the proper temperament and skill like Kenobi’s…it would almost be a fair trade


	13. Bits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Palptaine is the bad friend who encourages bad habits and really needs to be fed into an industrial shredder feet first.   
> Hondo squirms out of responsibility.   
> Plo Koon is a good uncle and Ahsoka misses Anakin.

The bar was built out of the ancient husk of a battleship. The seats made from the cooled and shaped batches of tibanna gas. An armory had become a storeroom. What used to be the bridge was now half caved into a mountain side, rock and stone protruding from the shattered viewport. Most of the rock had been smoothed out and carved into shelves for the pricier alcohols. Ancient crew chairs were broken husks attached to the ceiling and walls while mismatched chairs and tables were shoved into every space available. 

There had to still be power running through the ship. As the biolights set into the floor were still glowing. 

The rest of the ship was a hotel or sorts, mixed in with some gaming rooms and a lot of rooms where there were just sealed boxes.

Of all the places Anakin had taken her, Ahsoka hadn’t seen a place quite like this. She stared around the bridge, sensing the hundreds of years of emptiness and the few centuries of drinking and carousing that had been her. She was a little afraid to see what would happen if she tried to look any further back into the mystery ships past. 

“Ma…” She remembered what Plo had told her and swallowed down her words. “Um, uncle, what are we doing here?” There weren’t a lot of people in the bar. Most of them probably sleeping. A lot of them maybe off doing illegal stuff. 

“Investigation.” He said, his hand on her shoulder nearly enough to make her relax. He nodded in the direction of the bar, which might have one day been a long, shared console between ship stations. Behind it stood a lanky kel-dor wearing bright green and red. “Izzy!” He shouted and the other kel-dor turned. 

“PLO! Old buddy!” He came out from behind the bar and jogged over to Plo. Seizing him by the waist and hoisting him into the air. “How are you!” The conversation devolved into rapid-fie Kel-dor that Ahsoka didn’t understand. She looked over at the rest of the bar and wondered what the ship had once been. 

Anakin would have loved this place. 

She waved as the strange kel-dor’s mask turned to her. He waved back and he turned back to Plo. There was more conversation and then Plo set a hand on her head. 

“This is my niece, Soka. She is going to be joining me.” 

“Ah, taking your first break from the monks, Soka?” Ahsoka stared at izzy and shrugged. 

“I guess.” 

“Well, you’ll like this place.” Izzy waved at the bar, “we’re the best place for people taking breaks.” 

“Um,” Ahsoka shifted from foot to foot. “what is this place?” 

“The gray! I’m the one who found it. First it was an archeological site, people thought it might have been a human ship from before the first contact but funding dried up about 300 years ago. No one wanted to study human origins anymore. Eh, I still like it. So, Soka, if you’re staying here then don’t go below deck 22. I know you’re young and all excited about taking a proper break from the Order but going below deck 12 is dangerous. Lots of old stuff we don’t know about, ‘k?” 

“I know how to follow orders,” she replied stiffly and Izzy’s force presence wavered into discomfort. 

“Right, Plo. You’ll have to head to deck 1. I’ve mostly got places for single. Deck 1 had all the stuff for people with kids.” 

“Very well.” Plo agreed and steered Ahsoka from the room. She glared up at him. 

“What’s the idea?” She asked, “I thought we were supposed to be investigating?” 

“The Gray is a spaceport and dive and inn for a different sort of criminal.” Plo said, sidestepping her anger. “We will find more information here than we will with any galactic government intelligence agency. Furthermore, I needed a vacation.” 

“But we’re at war!” Ahsoka exclaimed as she was escorted onto a turbo lift. The bag weighing on her shoulder was getting heavy. She adjusted the strap. “We’re supposed to be killing separatist and cutting up clankers! We should be having a vacation! We need to kill Dooku!” 

“Dooku will wait,” Plo disagreed, “our orders from the council are important.” 

“And how are we supposed to figure out where the new sith is if we’re here. In some scrapped pile of junk and a bar?” She demanded.

“Ahsoka,” he didn’t sound reprimanding but she still shrank away. Leaning against the turbolift with a bitter expression. She kicked at the wall and blinked back tears. 

“Do you not trust me?” 

“I do. I guess.” 

“Little one, I will not lead you astray or into darkness.” Plo watched her carefully. “I do not ask you to understand immediately.” 

“I want to do something.” She muttered, voice watery.

“I understand,” Plo said, “but tonight we will eat and sleep and tomorrow the universe will look brighter.” 

“I doubt it.” 

“You may be surprised.” The turbo lift opened and the long hallway the moved down ended in two doors set opposite of each other. Her new teacher when to the left, opening the door and ushering her through. Ahsoka’s eyes went wide and she dropped her bags to the ground. 

“Wow.”

“Izzy has made many changes to it but these are the most comfortable rooms on the ship.” Ahsoka spun around, taking in the artful decoration. The oddness of it all. It seemed so old and yet so new. There was a cooking area and sitting area. Several doors lead out on the opposite walls. What really made her gape, was the lack of the outside wall and the ceiling. 

It was obvious that the outer hull had been ripped off in the crash, creating jagged edges and damaged lines. Glass filled in the empty space. It went from one edge of the room to the other, probably beyond. The most shocking was that it gazed out on the rest of the mountain range. Distant snow-capped summits, the deep green valley flooded with a blue/green lake. From this distance, she could see tiny figures moving up and down the mountains. She might have guessed that people were living on them. 

“Wow.”

“The Home Mountains.” Plo said, coming up to stand beside her. “Home to some of the clearest water in the galaxy and some of the best food, in my opinion.” 

“But I thought this was called The Gray?” 

“It is. The ship is, anyway. The planet has no name. Everything else does though.” 

“Why not?” 

“It is matter of the planetary inhabitants. They do not give it a name. They tell me that the planet wants to choose one.” 

“Are they force sensitive?” Ahsoka wondered as Plo detached himself and wandered over to the kitchenette. 

“That is not a subject for nothing.” Plo said, “what would you like for dinner?” 

“Food, I guess.” 

“Indeed.” Plo floated the crate of food he’d packed in his oversized bag over to the table. He opened it and produced a packet of bloody looking steaks. “How do you feel about steak?” 

“Rare?” Ahsoka, carnivorous by nature and equipped with a lot of very sharp teeth, loved bloody steaks the most. Except they were too expensive for the temple to buy on a regular basis. 

“I promise I will hardly even sear the sides.” 

“Okay.” She agreed instantly, “do you need my help?” 

“No, perhaps you should acquaint yourself with this place. We will be using these rooms as a base for our investigation for a while. Make this place comfortable for you, little one.”

“Alright.” She watched him unpack the meat and begin moving pots and pans around in way that spoke of familiarity. “Um.”

“Tomorrow you should explore the ship and the surrounding area.” 

“Why?” 

“Well, to know this place better. It is always better to be comfortable where you are.”

“I guess.” She wondered why Plo was playing at. “Why are we here.” 

“Our investigation.”

“But Izzy said we were on a break from the Order. What does that even mean? I mean, can we take a break from the Order?” 

“Sometimes, I have learned,” Plo was still cooking but he wasn’t looking at her. “It is best to distance one’s self from what you believe may be doing you more harm than good. Why, I once spent an entire century away from the Temple.” 

“But why, don’t you like being a Jedi? What did you do for a hundred years?”

“I helped those that needed help.” Her master replied, “it turned out to be a very odd century.” 

“Oh,” Ahsoka looked even more curious but she restrained herself. “I’ll just go unpack then.” 

“Certainly. I will call you when dinner is ready.” Ahsoka retreated quickly. She didn’t see how Plo looked after her or how sad he seemed. 

#$#$

“When were you going to tell me about the new sith?” Obi Wan demanded. Adi Gallia turned in surprise and nearly fell out of his kata. 

“What?” 

“Darth Vader. When were you going to tell me about him?” Obi Wan glowered at the woman and the other master shifted a bit. 

“That was classified. How did you know?”

“The chancellor told me, Master Gallia. This important. Why haven’t you told me?” 

“Kenobi, we weren’t even sure he was real until a few days ago?” She finally dropped her form and sighed. “He credited with slaughtering Jabba the Hutt. We think he’s the one responsible huge number of spicers just vanishing.”

“I don’t care about scum of the galaxy!” Obi Wan shouted. “Spicer and slavers are not important to me! A new sith is out there in the galaxy! Why aren’t we stopping him?” 

“We have no idea how to find him!” Adi said, exasperated. “Just yesterday we got information that Vader is more than likely responsible for the burning of Nar Shadda.”

“What happened on Nar Shadda?”

“He killed a lot of people. A complete slaughter. He’s dangerous, Kenobi. No one is going after Vader until we know more about this situation.” 

“He’s a Sith,” Obi Wan said, “he needs to die. There’s no need for discussion! A Sith! Out there. If he joins Dooku!” 

“We don’t even know if he’s not with the count! We can’t do anything! It’s not safe for anyone! Last time we underestimated the report of a sith we lost one of the greatest Jedi.” Obi Wan reared back as if he’d been slapped. 

“I know that.” He ground out and Adi Gallia surveyed him.

“Are you sure, Master Kenobi? I understand your frustration but we cannot afford to lose any more useful Jedi. We lost Knight Skywalker to the Separatists already. This war is too important. Our investigators will discover the truth about Vader and report back. Only then do we go after him.”

“How can the council justify having such a dangerous man on the loose? We already have one Sith! We cannot tolerate another!” 

“Kenobi! Control yourself.” Gallia ordered. Obi Wan seemed to jerk to a halt. “We are not screaming animals, we are Jedi.”

“Which is why we must eradicate the Sith.” Obi Wan bit out. 

“Go meditate, Kenobi.” Adi ordered, “clear your head before you do something stupid.”   
He glowered and spun about, stomping out of the room and into the dimly lit hall. There, he paused. Unsure where to go and what to do. 

Anakin was gone. 

Ahsoka was gone. 

They were gone and he was…he was alone. 

Not since Qui Gon’s death had he ever felt such crushing loneliness. He stared down the hall and tried to think of something. At least after his master had died he’d taken care of Anakin. Direct care of Anakin for so many years. Then the war and then.

He pressed his hand to his chest and wandered away from the sparring rooms. Down into the deepest part of the temple where very few people wandered any longer. Technically there were no memories for the fallen Jedi. As attachments were forbidden but Obi Wan had rigged a small piece of pod-racer part against a wall. He stuck a small image of Anakin in it. One of the few times he’d seen Anakin smile in the last few years. 

Obi Wan collapsed against the wall beneath it and covered his eyes. 

What was he going to do? The war taking a sour turn due to the violent fury of High General Villa and a now curiously intent Dooku. Cut off from any of his old friends. Padme now not bothering to speak to him any longer. Refusing his requests to meet and shutting him out. 

He bit his lip.

He needed something to do. He…Mace Windu. Obi Wan’s head rose and he glanced up at Anakin’s image. 

Mace Windu was rotting in a Separatist prison. He would hunt the Sith. All Obi Wan had to do was get him. 

#$#$#

Palpatine wasn’t very surprised to receive Obi Wan for a second time that day. He was surprised how desperate Kenobi looked. His hair was mused, his eyes sunken and red, and his clothes were stained and rumpled. 

“Master Kenobi, what I do to help you?” He asked, knowing full well what the man wanted. 

“You said that Darth Vader is out and about and dangerous.” Obi Wan said, he was trying to look the Jedi part and failing miserably. 

“Of course. I was told investigators would go to speak with him. I am not sure how effective that would be.” 

“Not at all,” Kenobi closed his eyes, “but I do know someone who can do more. Master Windu. We need to get him out of that prison. He’s not safe there and he’s supposed to be doing so much more. I know it.” 

“Of course.” Palpatine agreed, “but you are the Sith Slayer, why not you?” 

“I need Council backing to hunt him.” Obi Wan answered, “Master Windu is part of the council. I know he’ll come and help me hunt the Sith.” 

“Ah.” 

“I only need to know his location.” Kenobi said, voice tinged with absolute desperation. “I need to know where he is. I can get him out and then we can hunt down Darth Vader.”

“Of course, who am I to deny a close friend?” He held up the datachip sitting conveniently in his pocket and held it out to the self-imploding Jedi. “I will be properly discreet.” 

“Thank you, Chancellor.” Obi Wans bow was terrible but Palpatine though he could fix it. In due time Kenobi would kneel at his feet. 

“Also, Master Kenobi. I don’t know how appropriate it is but I retrieved a small gift from my home for you.” He said, Obi Wan froze. “It is customary on Naboo to exchange mourning gifts when a good friend perishes. He produced red bottle the size of his forearm and set it on his desk. “I recall young Anakin telling me of your appreciation for fine liquors. I thought this might fit in your tastes.” 

“Oh, I…thank you, chancellor.” Obi Wan looked blindsided but, not wanting to appear crazier than he already did, took the bottle and left his office without another word. He hoped Obi Wan drank it. A peculiar Sith brew his own master had concocted. Designed and created for the very terrible purpose of pulling every negative emotion to the surface. It was a nasty mix and a very strong spirit. 

He nearly wriggled in his seat with glee. Kenobi was weak, simpering and pathetic. He had no way to cope with his pain and unhappiness. Jedi laws and rules wouldn’t work for him. The only way Kenobi would ever recover from (partly his own fault) agony was through dangerous methods. None of the at all recommended by professionals. 

If he somehow got a debilitating drinking problem from it well, all the better. 

343434343

Nar Shadda was burning. 

Hondo Ohnaka should have felt a little bad for them but he only smiled at the amazing amount of chaos his team had caused. 

He could have been clever and dangerous and amazing and work through a very careful take-down of the criminals and gangs on the planet. Except that would take too much time and then people wouldn’t know that he meant business. 

The Ohnaka Gang meant business. 

“Hondo?” 

“Ida!” He turned to the woman, “what do you want?” 

“A week with my wife, first of all.” She said and Hondo chuckled merrily, “but they finished torching the last of the Hutt offices. We’ve got pilots now but now problems.” 

“Problems?” Hondo stared at her and Ida pulled out a long piece of flimsi out and it was covered in lines. 

“Yeah, from the not-criminals of Smugglers Moon.” 

“You’re kidding. There is not such type.” 

“Yeah, there are. They got problems. We burnt down the gangs so there’s no local authority. They don’t know what to do about money and stuff. Turns out the gangs ran stuff more or less smoothly.” 

“Whatever problems I am sure that you can solve them.” Hondo said with a spurt of inspiration. “I’ll leave you here! You can take over the planet and it’s problems. Make sure that the space ports are ready for Mama’s ships and certain amount of fuels and supplies are set to the side too.” 

“You are not dumping this rock on me.” Ida growled and Hondo inched away from her temper. “Hondo.”

“It is for the best!” He exclaimed. “You are the best person who can take care of these problems! You’re smart! The smartest one in the universe!” 

“HONDO!” He bolted from the room, away from an increasingly irate Ida. 

“Congratulations on your promotion!” He shouted, laughing and had to duck a blaster bolt. 

“HONDO!” 

#$#$#4

Han watched the older weequay bounce onto the ship with a bright grin and a singed jacket. Hondo was laughing to himself and looking as smug as the day is long. 

“What happened to you?” Han asked and Hondo gave a dramatic bow. 

“I was set upon by the most dangerous creature in the known universe! Nearly mauled from my youth and beauty by such furious teeth. Nearly lost my blood to a bloodthirsty beast!”

“What’d you do?”

“I made Ida angry.” Hondo replied simply and Han nodded sagely. 

“That’ll do it. Dewlanna says to not make ladies mad. They rip people up when they’re mad.” 

“Your mother is right! She is so right!” He bowed to the wookie as she came to investigate the noise. “Our conquest of Nar Shadda has gone wonderfully and now we are set to leave!” 

{What about Han?}

“We take him to the place he will go. Where he will be perfectly safe. Then you and I, beautiful one, go off into the sunset to destroy as many more gangs and scum as we possibly can!” 

[Han will we safe?]

“He will perfectly safe!” 

“I want to go too! Dewlanna! Come on! You know I can fly!” Han scrambled over to her, hanging onto her harness. “I want to fly too!” 

[Not yet, little cub.] Dewlanna set her paw on his head, ruffling his hair. [You still have not grown in all your fur.]

“But that won’t happen for ages! I want to fly now!” Han cried, leaning into her leg and then glancing up beseechingly. “Please?”

[No.] Dewlanna shook her enormous head. [When do we leave?]

“Soon!” Hondo promised, “Mama will be glad for a pilot of your caliber.”

#$#$3

Ida glowered at the dinky apartment she’d chosen to make into her office. If she was supposed to straighten out the planet to be useful enough for the Ohnaka gang she’d need help. 

“You said you needed help, Guv.” One of the few consistently sober pirates sashayed into her office with a limping pantorian behind him. “ ‘is name is Blue.” 

“Genius.” 

“ ‘e knows every’ne in town.” Blue waved awkwardly. “Contacts and such.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Blue nodded and wrung his cap between nervous fingers. “I run Blue’s repair shop down in the Corellian sector. I um, know just about all the decent pilots you might need. You did say you were off fighting stuff.”

“We took over Smuggler’s Moon for an express purpose.” Ida pulled on her old cop habits and loomed over Blue. “Do you want to help?” 

“I heard some rumors,” Blue whispered, “about Vader. They say he’s a protector and defender. Like the old Jedi Lord that once came to the outer rim a few centuries ago. You’re helping him?”

“Yes.” 

“Then I want to help because I know Jedi Lords go and help people who need it and I’m sick and sick of all those scum making life hard for everyone else.” 

“I refuse to believe that you’re perfectly innocent,” Ida replied and Blue shrugged.

“You ain’t either.” Ida conceded the point. “We do our best and I’ve got the names of all the pilots you may want.” 

“This isn’t some milk run, Blue. This is going to be a war. I was recruited by Vader to help and part of helping is ensuring that people who get involved know that they might be coming back. This isn’t against the Republic or the Seppies. This is against the Hutts, the Zygerrians, this is against the Spicers and the scum.”

“We still want to help,” Blue repeated. “We want lives that mean something.” 

“Very well.” The weequay pirate shrugged, “but I also need people who want to work for me on Nar Shadda. Apparently, I’m the one going to solve the problems that keep getting dumped on me.” She covered her face and tried to not cry. She was effectively a governor. 

Kriff.


	14. People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padme and her politics will always be important. Han Solo eats a donut.

He was shorting out the transmitters. He wasn’t even trying to do it, but it was happening. Anakin held the baby in his arms and then turned to her mother. 

“It just needs to be removed.” He told her. “The transmitter was dead.” 

“You stopped it?” The woman accepted the baby, staring at him.

“I did.” Behind the mask, he blinked away tears. “No child deserves to live in terror and fear of slavery.” 

“You freed us.” The woman was older, obviously tired and drained. “You saved my daughter. How can I thank you? How can I repay you?” 

“I require no payment,” he told her, “I am here to help and protect.” 

“I must.” She seemed to have trouble with her words, almost falling back into faintness. 

“No.” Anakin nodded slowly and pulled away from her. She was the last of the newly rescued slaves. Of the hundreds that had been saved from the slave ships that were still landing on Tatooine. Their havens were being destroyed with bloody glee. Presumably by Honodo and Hondo. “Excuse me.” He pulled himself free from her desperate grasp and escaped. 

He made his way to the apartment he’d set up with Kitster and activated his small portable holo-unit. It beeped quietly at him as he waited for Honodo to pick up the call. 

“What?” She appeared, only a few inches tall and still managed to look frightening. Anakin smiled wanely at her. 

“Hello.” 

“I’ve gotten reports from Tatooine. Nicely done.” 

“Thanks.” Anakin thumped his head back against the wall and rested his wrists on his knees. “What have you been up to?”

“I’ve destroyed the spice and slaving gangs of Nar Shadda and appointed a planetary governor of sorts. We’re destroying spice trade right now. The Hutts and Zygerrians are sensing something is wrong. They’re mobilizing their forces.” 

“I’ll have to infiltrate,” Anakin said quietly, “I can deactivate transmitters.” 

“Really?” She tilted her head to the side, “how?”

“The force.” 

“Of course.” 

“I can infiltrate and get the.” 

“No.” Anakin stared at her. 

“What?”

“It isn’t that your ability to turn off the transmitters isn’t fantastic, but I need you elsewhere. I haven’t made it this far by relying on force mumbo jumbo to get my work done for me.” Honodo didn’t seem to sense the annoyance from Anakin. If she did, she didn’t care. “No! The intelligence community is beginning to pick up on the fact that the Outer Rim is in a state of flux. If Tatooine is free and you can set up a base of political power, then I need you elsewhere.” 

“Where? 

 

“So far the Hutts are the biggest offenders. When I took Nar Shadda, we also took a huge contingent of slaves. They’re pretty pleased to be free. Nar Shadda connects to four different hyperspace lanes. Pobal Hutta, Shag Pobal, Tru Nuve, and Shag Nuve. I’ve blockaded all of them, and they’re going to be fine with the newest acquisition of ships and pilots.” 

“What are you doing to do.” 

“Take the jump points in Hutt space. Circumtore is next.” 

“Why haven’t you taken Nal Hutta?” 

“Because I want to choke them off first. Leave them gasping for breath before I finally destroy them.” 

“Nal Hutta is the moon around Nar Shadda. They’ll try and attack your ships.” 

“I know.” Honodo paced back and forth. “They don’t have the manpower to do it. I have captured their private shipyards. I have hordes of pissed off pilots and slaves. I need you to lead this attack on the Hutts.” 

“What?” Anakin stared. 

“You lead the attack on the Hutts. Choke them off, make them surrender or blast them into space. I don’t care.” 

“I’ve only taken Tatooine from the Hutts. I don’t.” 

“The people who know about you know that you are Vader. The Jedi think that you’re a Sith, this will work in your favor because not much of Hutt space like Jedi. Also, you’re going to be the Jedi’s bogeyman.”

“I know that.” Anakin stared at her. “What makes you think people want to be free from the Hutts?”

“If they don’t, they’ll learn to live with it.” 

“Conquest?” 

“Yes,” Anakin reminded himself that the woman was the founder of a gang that had been a huge pain for the Jedi since it’s conception. She’d raised Hondo Ohnaka who could figure out what a Sith was and how to rescue Anakin from a Sith prison with little or no context. “What are we going to do about the Sith?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Nothing?”

“What do you want me to do, Skywalker? Send a letter to the Jedi, tell them that Palpatine is the Sith?” 

“Can you send a letter to my wife too? She doesn’t know that I’m alive. I need her to know that I’m alive.” 

“Your wife? Uff da! Skywalker! You have a wife?” 

“Yes.” 

“Alright, alright!” Honodo rubbed her head, “fine! I will go and send these stupid letters. Who is your wife?” 

“Padme Amidala.”

“Sheesh, you don’t do anything by halves, Skywalker.” The weequay didn’t seem annoyed too much, which cheered Anakin immensely. “Now, I will send a ship for you. Do you know anyone who can take over?” 

“Yes.” He thought about Kitster and sighed. “I can.” 

“Alright, now. If anyone asks, you were the one who conquered Nar Shadda to effortlessly. I’m going to coordinating with the rest of my pilots and captains. What do you want to name your armada?”

“Something intimidating,” Anakin said slowly.

“Death?” 

“No.” 

“Black?” 

“Subjugator?” 

“No!” 

“Devastator?” 

“No! How about the Sovergin Fleet?” 

“Too soft.” 

“How does Darth Vader’s Fleet of Destruction and Hellfire sound?”

“Almost, why don’t we stick with Hellfire?” 

“What?” Anakin stared, “you seriously want me to name my armada, Hellfire?” 

“Yes! It is a good name! Intimidating and scary and the Jedi will tremble before it. That is if you use it right.” 

“I.” Anakin rubbed his nose, “fine, fine! Called it Hellfire.” Honodo cackled, and Anakin went to find Kitster. 

#$#$#

Ahsoka spent the first few days aboard the Gray wandering. She found herself pacing restlessly for hours on end. The ship was stuffed full of interesting people and things to look at, but she was restless. Plo seemed to be coordinating with some sort of group of people; he wouldn’t let her in the meetings. After a while, the ship lost its appeal and Ahsoka decided to leave. She ducked out of the shredded wall and dropped herself onto the rocky path that was stamped into the mountain. Out here, it was cold. A sharp wind drove against her almost constantly. 

Desolate and empty mountains around her stretched for miles, though she knew it couldn’t be that far. From her room, she’d been able to see a whole lot more. She began hiking. 

Was she hiding? Was she running away from her feelings? Was she running away from Plo Koon? Ahsoka wasn’t sure at all. She was lost, she knew that much. 

As she walked out from under the shadow of the ship and didn't look back. 

She walked for hours and hours. The mountain paths were simple, unadorned and there were no directions to anywhere. Ahsoka didn’t mind that the landscape of the mountain range was bleak, her attention was inward. 

Sometime later, she stopped walking and sat down on the edge of a cliff. It overlooked the foothill and the plains that extended out from the mountain. It had begun to snow too; it dusted down with a lazy playfulness that could turn violent at any given moment. She’d seen snow before, but her focus was on other things. 

“Little one.” At some point, Plo Koon must have joined her. She wasn’t sure when it had happened. She’d zoned out, and lost focus on her surroundings. “This is quite a distance.” 

“A long way down,” she hollowly, “Do you think it’ll be enough?” 

“Ahsoka,” he stooped down beside and draped something heavy and warm over shoulders. She didn’t move as he sat beside her. The snow on her shoulders began to melt. 

“I can’t even see the bottom. You know, just a short fall and then.” 

“Ahsoka.” 

“I don’t want to feel like this,” she finally stirred and turned away from Plo Koon, “I don’t want to hurt this much. I want it to go away. I don’t want to be so sad and angry all the time. I want to go and feel nothing. I want to be a proper Jedi. I don’t want to hurt!” 

“Even proper Jedi hurt, little one.” He enormous hand landed on hers; his grip was gentle. 

“It hurts so much!” She hated how the tears were returning. She thought she’d cried out all her tears while on kitchen duty. “I karking hate it. I’m not supposed to hate, but I’m not supposed to hurt this much! I don’t want it! I can’t.” Her breath came short and fast until she was all but bawling. Plo hadn’t moved his hands, but he seemed closer than before. 

“How does it feel?” He asked quietly, the buzz his mask gave his voice was almost soft. 

“It hurts!” She cried, doubled over, head dropped into her arms and shaking. 

“How does it hurt?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“You must know.” 

“I don’t!” She wailed, “it hurts. He’s gone! I’m alone! He believed in me! He cared about me! He loved me, and now he’s gone! I don’t have anyone! I’m just…that pathetic initiate that no one wanted. I’m that sad little togruta that the masters hated. They gave me away like I was a toy. I was so alone, and then I wasn’t, and now I’m that stupid padawan who can’t…stop….crying! Why can’t I stop crying?” 

“You’re grieving, little one.” Plo told her, “you were hurt. These cannot be ignored or pushed away.” 

“I don’t.” Words her completely. Ahsoak was reduced the noisy sobs that she was sure that people could hear all over the mountain range.

“You still think about him. He’s still on your mind. You cared about him, and now he’s gone. It was an attachment.” By the time Plo Koon had begun talking, Ahsoka was nearly breathless from her tears. She could hear him perfectly; his rumbling voice vibrated her montreals. “Losing him walk like losing a limb. There is a hole in your heart where he was. You feel lost and depressed and sad, and it hurts. Little one, it does hurt. It is agonizing, like someone it is pulling your heart out with their bare hands.”

“Why won’t it stop? Why won’t it go away?” 

“Because it is now a part of you. You will live with the pain, little one. You must face it; you must see it to know that it is real. You cannot heal until you accept it.” 

“I don’t want it!” Plo Koon held her against him, pulling them back from the ledge. “I want it to go away! I want to feel better now!”

“You cannot, little on.” Something in Plo’s voice cracked, she was acutely aware of his grief. “You must not. Grief is natural. It is as the force intended. You must cry to heal.” Ahsoka hiccuped against his chest, but tears were still leaking from her eyes. 

“I can’t.” 

“You can,” he held her close, “you can.” 

It seemed to take forever for her to calm down enough to talk properly. “I keep crying. I can’t seem to stop. Why can’t I stop?”   
“You’re crying because the emotion has to be felt. You have to acknowledge how much it hurts and when you avoid it then it will find a way for attention.” 

“But,” she was huddled against him, nearly ready to burst into tears again. Anakin’s laughed echoed through her mind and tears dripped down her face. 

“You do not need to be afraid of your tears, ‘soka. You don’t need to be afraid of your grief.” 

“It’ll lead me to the dark side. It’s too strong.” 

“No, it will not. If grief were the harbinger of the Dark side, I would have fallen centuries ago. I have buried every one of my padawans.” 

“But I.” She looked up, still huddled against him. Around them, snow continued to fall. The white covered her blanket and her head. “I…” 

“Ahsoka, do not fear your sadness. You lost someone you loved very much. It natural that you grieve. Feel your sadness, do not push it away.” 

“I.” She suddenly understood. “Is that why we’re here? Is that why you brought me to the middle of nowhere?” 

“In part” he hesitated, “we still have our mission, little one.” 

“I wouldn’t be safe at the Temple?” She asked after a while.

“No.” He didn’t bother to lie to her. His force signature was concerned, he hugged her close as the cold finally began to register. “You’re a star in the sky, my friend. You burn with passion, joy or anger. Like Anakin, your love for each was clear and often considered dangerous. Here, you’re shielded from the Council.”

“How do you know? “

“It was…a few centuries ago.” Plo sighed, “I had lost my first padawan. In my grief, I abandoned the order.” 

“Oh?” 

“This is not the time for my story, little one. This is to help you. If you would please, come back inside; you will get sick if you stay out here any longer.” 

“I don’t feel the cold.” 

“I do,” Plo told her gently, “please, little one?” 

“Alright.” Ahsoka got shakily to her feet, feeling drained. Almost sick. Together they returned to the Gray. Plo set about preparing dinner. She sat at the table, despondent and unresponsive to even the scent of bloody meat. The blanket on her shoulders had slipped off at one point. When he slid the steak in front of her, he finally spoke. 

“Our investigation into Vader is secondary to your emotional well-being. One cannot grieve while surrounded by people who would vilify them for it. I know your admission of Skywalker’s attachment to you was the reason you were punished with kitchen duty. I didn’t want you to be surrounded by people who made you unhappy, little one.” 

“I can get better though? I…won’t hurt as much in the future?” 

“I cannot promise that, Ahsoka. I wish to help you learn how to deal with your feelings. I want you to know how to deal with grief.”

“I can do that.” She stirred, “I never heard that you left the order.” 

“It is not advertised, and that is a story for another time. Ahsoka, please eat.” She stared at the steak and slowly pulled it closer. 

“Okay.” Slowly, she chewed on bites of the steak while Plo began to prepare his own dinner. A nutrient shake that looked better than it smelled. 

“What would you like to do this evening?” He asked. 

“Do you miss Anakin?” She asked, and Plo paused. 

“Yes.” 

“I do.” She seemed to deflate and poked halfheartedly at her dinner. She ate in silence, which the kel-dor took as a sign he should also be quiet. 

#$#

Senator Dilla was as good as her word. Every friend who owed her a favor, every one that didn’t, and everyone that wanted in on the cash, wrote a series of investigative articles about the mining guild. A deluge of articles, editorials, graphs, stories, sentient interest pieces and sob stories flooded the holo-net. 

To sweeten the pot, the senator sent news crews to her home; where citizens had blocked access to the main mine entrance and had dug in for the long run. The first images of the exhausted protest ignited a passionate fury in the lobby groups who already hated the mining guild. 

Padme watched the news with a critical eye, focusing on the dozens of older citizens and the significantly ill adults and children. With it muted, she didn’t have to hear about the heavy metal poisoning or the tales of violent oppression as executed by the mining guild. 

“Senator?” She looked up as Dorme knocked on the door. 

“Yes?” 

“Master Jedi Mundi is here, and he has requested a word.”

“No,” Padme shook her head, “if they wish to speak with me, tell him to send a formal request and schedule an appointment.” 

“As you wish, milady.” Dorme disappeared, and Padme took a steadying breath.

“Senator.” Rage swamped her chest, nearly making her see red. 

“Master Jedi.” Padme squeezed her stylus hard enough to snap it nearly in half. “I believe I gave you my answer. If you want a meeting, then you should go through official channels.”

“This is a matter of grave importance, “ the Cerean told her as he lowered himself onto a chair and made himself comfortable. He looked at her holo display and her desk. “I see you are aware of the problem.” 

“Yes.” Padme switched the news off and swept her desk clear in a second. Pushing her pads and papers into two drawers on her desk before she turned to focus on the Jedi. “What do the Jedi need?”

“Senator,” Mundi began, “the recent abuses of the mining guild that have come to light are of grave concern to the Jedi.” 

“Indeed.” Dorme stuck her head into her office and gave an apologetic nod. Padme waved for her friend to bring a drink. “What do the Jedi intend to do about it?” 

“I believe.” 

“Certainly open an official investigation into the mining guild,” Padme blinked at him, “I’m sure that this is too important to ignore.” 

“It is important to the council.” Mundi agreed, and Padme wondered what he was hiding. So far, the Jedi only came to her if they needed something. If they needed someone to pull for them in the Senate, Padme wasn’t sure she would be willing. 

“As you must understand, Senator. A new order of ships is due to be complete soon.” Padme waited for the Jedi to continue. “However, it has been behind schedule.” 

“That seems like a concern of a logistics officer,” she told him. Dorme entered with a tray with a jug of io juice and one glass. “Not a galactic senator.” 

“The council has been petitioned by the mining guild to remove the protesters and to ensure that work continues. For the completion of our ships, the work must continue.” 

“I see.” Padme watched her friend pour the juice and then retreat a few steps. She picked up the glass and took a sip. “fF the mining guild has petitioned the Jedi, why bring a galactic senator into the mess?”

“You are on several committees, including those that decide which trials and issues are presented to the Senate as a whole.” 

“I am.” Padme agreed as she realized what the Jedi wanted. Disguising the motion, she reached under her desk and pressed a button. It activated a recorder that she mostly used to help her keep notes when she worked through so many Senate bills. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. While I am on the Committee of Trials, none of this explains why you need my help.”

“A trail is being formed against the mining guild.”

“As it should be, it seems they have broken more than one law.” 

“If it is possible for you to delay the trial under the Jedi have the needed ships to add to our fleet?” 

“I don’t know, Master Jedi. I am not the only one on the committee. Senator Dilla is on it as well.” 

“I was planning on speaking to several other senators.” Padme stared at the Jedi, who seemed to have no understanding of what he’d just admitted to. “I can count on your support?” Something strange touched her mind, so unbelievably foreign and peculiar that she immediately shied away. It wasn’t natural. People’s minds did not touched like that, it was a sickening invasion of privacy, and she stared at Mundi with muted horror. 

“Of course,” she said as she shivered under pressure on her mind. “Master Jedi, I seem to be falling ill. If you would please take your leave.” Master Mundi left, and Padme clenched her shaking hands. Something else trembled, the weight on her mind that represented her child. Fear, not entirely hers, made her shake. 

“Padme.” Dorme rushed to her side, “are you alright.” 

“I am.” She swallowed, “he tried to…a tried a Jedi mind trick.” 

“Padme!” Horrified, Dorme pressed her hands on her shoulders, “are you yourself?”

“I didn’t…I didn’t even. I didn’t let him do it, but I could feel that he was trying to make me agree.”

“You did agree.”

“I’m not going to delay the trial bill,” Padme said firmly. “That was an attempt at coercion and manipulation.” 

“If the Jedi go to Senators Dilla’s planet, they will disrupt the protesters and ensure that they get the material for those ships.” 

“I hadn’t considered the Jedi,” Padme admitted, trying to pat her stomach to soothe the frightened child within. “We’ll have to destroy them.” 

“Senator?” Dorme gaped as Padme stood and began pacing around her office. 

“They attempt to manipulate my mind to get the outcome they wanted.” She snapped, “they are probably going to Dilla’s world to stop those protestors. People who have every right and reason to protest the continued presence of the mining guild. That is an abuse of authority! They are charged to protect the galaxy! Not the businesses of the Republic!” 

“Senator, but destroy the Jedi?” Padme turned to Dorme and nodded. 

“Yes, we will destroy their influence on the Senate and their power. We will drag them through the mud and stomp on their heads.” 

“It won’t be easy,” Dorme said, and Padme nodded. 

“I know, I will need support.” She paced a few more moments, “I also need another meeting with Senator Dilla. A discreet one.” 

“Yes, milady.” Padme considered her course of action. 

“I will need battle statistics for the last years and half of war.” Padme said slowly, “as well as meetings scheduled with the five senators we discussed this morning.” 

“Yes, milady.” Dorme bowed and finally retreated as Padme seethed with barely suppressed rage. An hour later, a lunch cart was wheeled into her office, pushed by a smiling cafeteria attendant. Padme accepted it and was shocked to see her constituent climb from the bottom. 

“Dilla!” 

“Amidala!” Dilla exclaimed with false shock. “What do you want?”

“I…why are you hiding on my lunch tray?” 

“It’s a good place to hide,” Dilla explained, standing and picking at the food on the tray. “Oh, I love these pastries.” 

“I called you because this is important. The Jedi have been petitioned by the mining guild to go and stop your people from protesting. They have also requested that I stall the trial bill. The one that will make them answerable for their crimes.” 

“I wrote that bill,” Dilla said, without apparent concern. She continued to eat part of Padme’s lunch. “You’d better not stall that bill.” 

 

“Dilla, the Jedi asked for me to stall the bill.” Finally, the woman looked over. 

“Really?” 

“And they attempted to manipulate my mind to do so.”

“Interesting.” Dilla licked her thumb, “very interesting. What do they want from the mining guild?” 

“Ships. The material necessary for their ships to be complete is still on your planet. They want it, and then they might consider stopping the guild.” 

“No, not another ounce of metal leaves my world. I don’t care who it is. There is enough damage.” 

“If the Jedi go to your world the Senate is going to do nothing. They want ships and soldiers to fight a war. Telling the Jedi to kark off is going to be seen as unpatriotic.” 

“I won’t be able to get rid of them, and if they put my planet under martial law, then I’m going to be in even more trouble. I won't have my position in the Senate to do anything.” Dilla nodded slowly, “Thank you for telling me. What are you going to do?”

“Something else, we don’t want to put our eggs in one basket.” 

“Right, I need my planet to be the focal point of this next mess but I’m not having some Jedi scum to strong-arm us into smashing the core of our planet for profit.” 

“I’m working on a solution. Dilla, you don’t like the Jedi?” 

“No.” The woman returned to eating part of Padme’s lunch. She didn’t care too much.

“I know that a lot of senators don’t, but there are so many of them that do.” 

“If you want to shake the Jedi’s influence on the Senate, you’ll have to make most of them distrust them. The Jedi are a danger, they’re horrible, they’re incompetent.” Padme froze as a thought struck. “Or, make the Jedi distrust the Senate. One or the other. Personally, I don’t care for the Jedi. Are you going to eat this?” 

“Eat what?” Padme froze and looked to where Dilla pointed, “oh no, I hate those things. I can never figure out why they serve them.” 

“I don’t know either, but I spent the entire night stalking some senators, so I’m tired and hungry.” Dilla glanced over, “the Jedi didn’t affect your mind, did they?” 

“No, I’ve been trained on how to deflect it.” It was still damn hard for a non force sensitive to keep a trained Jedi out of their head. 

“Good, you should probably not let them visit you again.” 

“I didn’t; he barged his way into my office. I want him gone.” 

“Gosh, I’m shocked. I’m so surprised, but I’m going to leave ominous notes outside the mining guilds offices.”

“Why?”

“Because their Senate representative is hugely superstitious and if he thinks he’s being haunted by someone who died because of the guild it might cause him to have a mental break down.” 

“Well done,” Padme said, admiring. “That’s an excellent idea!” 

“I think so. Also, if you’re going to be navigating the field of the war, there’s a new player.” Padme stared. “Someone called Vader. My contacts on the outer rim have no idea who he is. No one does except him, and someone else lit Nar Shadda on fire.” Padme continued to stare. “That doesn’t mean much to you, but he’s dangerous. He killed Jabba the Hutt not too long ago. Now, even though Naboo isn’t far from the spice mines of Kessel and the ridden poverty holes of the galaxy, you still don’t know much about the power out there?”

“Not particularly.” 

“Look, whoever controls the outer rim smuggling ports, controls the outer rim. If the Hutts are dead and probably the Zygerrians to follow, you’re going to be surrounded on all sides by an enemy force.” 

“Do we know who Vader is?” 

“Like I said. No one knows who he is. If it's even a man. The Jedi think he’s a Sith, but I don’t think he is.” 

“Hmm,” Padme sat back down. “I’ll look into it, thank you.” 

“Right. Send your lunch back.” Dilla crawled back into the cart and was wheeled out a few minutes later. Padme felt tired as she went into her receiving room to greet Senator Miles. 

3$#$#

“IM NOT SOME KARKING KID YOU CAN PUT TO BED!” Caleb Dume paused at the bottom of the back steps. Someone shouting was always a surprise and having that someone be another kid was odd. He climbed the last few steps and paused when he saw a small brown haired kid stomp out of the room. “WHO THE KRIFF ARE YOU?” The boy shouted.

“Hi,” Caleb waved, “I’m Caleb.” 

“I’m Han Solo,” the kid jabbed his thumb into his chest, “I’m one of the best pilots in the galaxy!” 

“Sure,” Caleb said readily, “why are you shouting?”

“Because I’m not going to take a nap!” The boy yelled, “I’m too old! I’m ten!” 

“Han,” Caleb noticed that the boy was swaying anyway. “What’s wrong?” 

“The evil doctor got to me.” Dr. Tani rushed out the door a second later, frantic. 

“Oh thank the stars! I was afraid you’d made it into the woods.” Tani stared at them. “Han Solo, I don’t care what you think! You’re taking a nap, and that’s final!” 

“No!” Han sprinted the rest of the way, yelling as Caleb grabbed him. “Put me down! PUT ME DOWN!”

“What’s he need a nap for?” 

“He’s been given a few shots, and his body will process them better if he’s asleep. I don’t want him to be running around the woods and fall over in a dead faint.” 

“I’m not taking a nap!” Han yelled, kicking as the former Jedi. “Put me down, damn you!” 

“Your mother gave me permission to deal with you,” Dr. Tani groused, “you’re going to at least lay down. I don’t care if you sleep or not, but you’re not running around right now.” 

“I’ll hang you with you.” Caleb let Han down but didn’t let go. The suspicious brown eyes narrowed even further. 

“I don’t want to hang out with you, soft- belly.” Caleb stared but refused to feel hurt. “Let me go. I’m getting off this rock.” 

“No,” Caleb told the ten-year-old, “you’re going to do what Dr. Tani said. You’re going to lay down. I’ll be nice and spend some time with you, but you’re not going out into the woods until you’ve got the doctors permission.” 

“No!” Han Solo tried to wiggle out of his grip, but Caleb held tight and hauled the protesting kid into the house and then toward the bedroom Anakin Skywalker had used. Han fought every inch of the way until Caleb tossed him onto the bed and ran from the room. A second later he was back, holding a donut. When he opened the door again, Han Solo was half out the window. Caleb set the donut on the desk and hauled the smaller boy in. He nearly got a kick in the face of his efforts but managed to get the Corellian back onto the bed. “GET OFF!” 

“HAN!” Caleb shouted, surprised by the sternness, the younger boy froze. Dr. Tani leaned around the door. “Listen here; this place is a sanctuary. Right now you’re safe, and if Dr. Tani is helping, then you need to accept his help. He’s a doctor, and he literally defected from the Republic so he wouldn’t break any of his oaths. You’re going to sit down, and you’re going to behave, or you don’t get that donut.” Caleb pointed at the donut. For some reason, Hondo had brought back huge amounts of pastries. 

“What makes you think I’m going to perform for a donut?” Han crossed his arms.

“I’m not asking you to perform. I’m telling you what you’re going to be doing and if you do it now, you get a snack. If you do it later, you get no snack, and you get a time-out.” 

“Who the kriff do you think you are? You think a time-out is going to mean anything to me!”

“It’ll mean something to you if you’re standing in the living room where everyone can see you. Like, all the pilots that come visit Dr. Tani for check-ups.” Han seemed to blanch finally. 

“You don’t have the authority.” 

“He does,” Dr. Tani said, and Han leaned around Caleb to glare at the doctor. “You sit in here and eat the donut with Caleb, or you’re going to spend the required quiet time in time-out.” Han visibly sulked and shrank in on himself. 

“Fine,” he snapped. “Give me the kriffin’ donut.” 

“Alright!” Caleb pulled the donut to himself with the force. Han’s eyes went wide. 

“You’re a Jedi!” 

“I was a Jedi,” he handed over the donut. The small Corellian took it and ate it in three huge bites. “I’m not anymore.” 

“Then what are you?” 

“Not sure,” Caleb sat down at the end of the bed. Han eyed him warily. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine!” 

“Okay,” he held up his hands, “what do you want to talk about?” 

“Nothing.”

True to his inborn Corellian stubbornness, Han didn’t say anything else. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Caleb who eventually settled into meditation. Unlike Caleb, Han wasn’t trained to stay quiet in one position for long without falling asleep. Within an hour into the stare-off; Han Solo was asleep. 

Before he left, Caleb carefully tucked the ten-year-old into bed and turned the lights off as he left.

“Nicely handled.” Dr. Tani congratulated when he reached the kitchen. 

“You aren’t mad at me?” Caleb asked, and the man chuckled. 

“No, you handled him better than I could. The boy is a mess, but he seems nice enough.” 

“He’s asleep; he glared at me until he fell asleep.” 

“Sounds like a normal ten-year-old with authority issues.” The doctor said, going back to his caf. “You should eat something.” 

“Thanks.” Caleb busied himself with making himself a sandwich and looked up when the man coughed. 

“Even if you’re going to keep an eye on Han, that doesn’t excuse you when you misbehave.” Dr. Tani said, “you can still be punished too. Don’t overstep any boundaries here, Caleb.” 

“I won’t,” Caleb promised. He himself hated, hated getting stuck in time out. He felt he was too old and it was embarrassing to have someone see him sitting in the corner like he was a kid. What was worse, was the lectures that usually followed. Dr. Tani could lecture like there was no tomorrow. It was usually the worst sort of guilt trips in existence that made Caleb feel like scum. 

“Good.” Silence returned to the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should apologize for the long wait for an update but I will not.


	15. Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin thinks it's a little too easy to be a pretend Sith. Padme gets on with her politics

Being Darth Vader, or Lord Protector Vader, was disturbingly easy. 

Kitster thought it was hilarious and told him so. 

“I’m supposed to be a frightening monster,” Anakin told his brother, “I’m supposed to make the Jedi cry with fear and the oppressed cheer.” The flat deliverance of his lines, made Kitster laugh that much harder. 

“I like the mask,” Kitster said when he was done laughing. Almost ten minutes later. Anakin’s dramatically miserable face made him collapse into humor every time he glanced up at him. “It’s just.”

“It’s for drama’s sake, Kitster, nothing else. It’s not like I need it to breath. Honodo just wants me to wear it because it makes me look intimidating and frightening.” 

“I like it because when I saw it, you were alive and you had come back to free me.” Kitster managed honestly, “I like it because my brother was here. I like it because it was what you wore when you killed Jabba the Hutt. To me, it means freedom. I am not afraid of it, and I am not afraid of you.” 

“I appreciate it,” Anakin said, swallowing from the sudden sense of unease, “hopefully other people see it as it is too. I don’t mind if the Jedi are afraid. I just hope that other people aren’t afraid. “

“They shouldn’t be,” Kitster leaned against his brother, wrapping his arms around to hug him. “Vader is a protector, not a villain.” 

“You know all about drama don’t you?” Anakin leaned into the hug, nearly melting over his brother.

“I always wanted to be an actor; I did study it when I had the chance. What a greater chance to be an actor than to be a politician?” 

“I’m sorry for setting Honodo on you,” Anakin finally drew away, “but if anyone knows how to help Tatooine yank itself out of destitution and chaos.” 

“Anakin, Tatooine won’t make itself free through the efforts of one man. You didn’t do it alone, did you?” Anakin shook his head. “I won’t be alone either. I’m just a spokesperson that will look good on camera. The real work of healing Tatooine is not going to be done by one person alone, Ani, it will be done by all of us.” 

“I,” Anakin stared at him, “if It had half your wisdom, Kitster, I would be the luckiest person in the galaxy.” He smiled a self-deprecating smile.

“You’ll have to settle for second hand,” Kitster leaned up and kissed his cheek, “and come back for reminders, alright?” 

“I promise.”

“That’s all I ask. Besides,” trying for levity, Kitster smacked his brother’s arm, “we’ll see each other soon anyway.”

“That’s right, you know. When you meet Honodo in person, don’t hate her. She’s a pain, I promise, but she’s smart.” 

“I hope she is smart.” Kitster nodded to the ship waiting behind Anakin. “Otherwise you’re going to be blasted into nothing out there.” 

“I’ve got a plan,” Anakin told him.

“Alright.” Neither of them wanted to let go. So soon after being reunited, it hurt Anakin more than he wanted to admit to be separated from his brother. He had missed Kitster during his years with the Jedi. They would have kept holding onto each other if someone hadn’t entered the hanger. With Kitster thus called away to deal with business, Anakin was free to leave Tatooine. 

Off to another war, this time, something he believed in 

#$#$#

Master Plo Koon was awake when Ahsoka dragged herself out of her bed. He was sitting at the kitchen bar with a datapad propped up in front of him, and drinking tea through a straw. There was a pot beside him, with an extra cup waiting too. A plate of nearly raw sausage was patiently waiting for a hungry togruta to tear into. 

Ahsoka obliged, tearing through the sausages and tea before even bothering to speak. Plo didn’t make any motions of speech until she felt almost okay. 

“What’s up?” She slurped her tea, burrowing into her jacket. 

“Vader has made an appearance.” 

She perked up, interested. “Aren’t we supposed to be investigating me?” 

“Yes.” Plo turned the datapad around to show her two messages. “This one is from the council. They tell me that Darth Vader has emerged again. This one,” he jabbed at the second message, “is from my agent on Circumtore. He says that Lord Protector Vader has battled the Hutt armada stationed there. Upon defeating it, destroyed the slavers holdings on the planet.” 

“Um, that’s…different. “

“It is two different stories. The message the Hutts have sent to the Republic is that they have been attacked by unorganized pirates and have taken the hyperspace lane.They say, that because the hyperspace lane has been taken, the Republic may not be able to move ships or supplies or troops along it.” 

“Is it true?” 

“Oh yes, Circumtore is the heart of a major hyperspace lane. Anyone who controls it can begin to control the outer rim.” 

“So we can’t move supplies along it?” 

“The council hasn’t tried yet. The battle for Circumtore only just happened. As in, this news is only about an hour old.” 

“Okay, so do we need to go to Circumtore?” 

“We are being redirected there, yes.” There was a lightness in his tone that made Ahsoka peer at the kel-dor. “What are we going to do?” 

“ ‘soka, do you remember what I told you about my leaving the order?” 

“You never said anything about it.” 

“No,” Plo seem to ponder, “when I left three centuries, I had spent a century as something called a Lord Protector. It was an ancient title that some of the force users were granted. In return for using their abilities to protect and shelter citizens, they were granted titles and lands. Their focus was on aiding the fallen, protecting the weak, and caring for all lives.” 

“But you took the title?” 

“Yes.”

“Why?” She wondered if this was an appropriate conversation topic for so early in the day. A second later she glanced up to see that snow was still coming down. She didn’t like cold more than Anakin had, so she planned on staying in the room and keeping warm. 

“I left the Order,” Plo tapped his claws against the datapad, “I wanted to help people. I lost my Padawan in such a violent way. I had been helpless, forced to stand aside as they were murdered. I was told that I ought to accept and celebrate their death. I was not allowed to mourn them. They were,” he looked up t the glass ceiling and the falling snow. “Ripped from my arms and I was told to accept it. Then, little one, I understood grief and helplessness. I understood just how much the teaching of the Jedi had failed me.” 

“So you left?” 

“Would you not have? He was my son; I loved him. I raised him. I taught him everything I knew and then,” his force signature seem to droop with a desperate and painful grief. “He was gone. Yes, I left. I took the title of Lord Protector. I fought the slavers on the outer rim. I felt that returning to the truth of the force was ease my pain.” 

“So, did it?” 

“It eased it; it could never fully erase it.”

“If you were a Lord Protector then why did you stop? Why did you go back to the Order? What does that have to do with Vader?”

“I returned to the Order for personal reasons. I,” Plo stared at her, “I did many things while I was gone. Among them, were several crimes that I am not proud of. What it has to do with Vader, the question is difficult on multiple counts.” 

“Why?” 

“There are few sentients who would remember the title of Lord Protector. Very few species have such a long living memory. Humans certainly don’t, even the history of the Lord Protector is confused. I certainly couldn’t find any reliable information on them.” 

“So?” 

“So, there is someone who remembers what a Lord Protector does. I believe,” he paused, “I know who it is.” 

“How could you know? Is it another kel-dor?”

“No,” Plo said slowly, “little one, what do you know about the Ohnaka gang?” 

“You mean like Hondo?” 

“Yes.”

“Oh,” she rolled her eyes, “I know Hondo alright. He’s a petty criminal. Likes to board ships and break things that aren’t his. He’s a big time for petty thievery.”

“What if he wasn’t.” 

“What?” 

“The Ohnaka gang wasn’t founded by Hondo. It has been around for centuries longer than most expect.”

“Okay, but it’s still the Ohnaka gang. Did his father found it?” For some reason, Plo seemed to think that that was the funniest thing she’d said in weeks. “Why are you laughing? I’m serious!” 

“I apologize, ‘soka,” Plo made a noise that was probably something in kel-dor, “but if you knew Hondo’s father, as I did, you would not put great mental ability or skills on his memory.” 

“You knew Hondo’s father! He’s got a father!” 

“Oh, yes. There is a reason his mother killed him.” Ahsoka stared. “Yes, Hondo’s mother, Honodo, killed Hondo’s father.” 

“That’s messed up! Is that why he’s screwed up and crazy?” 

“Perhaps, though unlike kel-dor, weequays do not seem to gracefully handle aging so slowly. Many of them, though not all of them, revert to piracy and crime as means of entertainment.”

“Entertainment!” 

“The exact location of the weequays homeworld is kept a secret. It was once known, before I became a Lord Protector, and has since vanished. I suspect Honodo’s involvement.” 

“So Honodo killed Hondo’s dad, but what does that have to do with the Ohnaka gang?” 

“She built a criminal empire.” Ahsoka snorted. “That Hondo has since ruined,” Plo frowned at her, “it was not always so easy to defeat the Ohnaka gang. I bring them up specifically because I believe that Honodo has re-emerged onto the galactic scene with a new scheme. “

“So?” 

“She holds the memory of the Lord Protector and what they mean to the Jedi. When I held the title, I was seen as a grave threat to the Republic and the Hutt gangs. Several Jedi were sent to eliminate me.” 

“So you think this pirate lady is the one who is Vader?” 

“Oh, now. Vader is not Honodo,” Plo said quickly, “Honodo is not force sensitive. Which we should be grateful for; otherwise she might have conquered the galaxy. That is not to say she cannot to that without the Force, it would just be easier for her.” 

“So who is Vader?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Then why do we are about Honodo if we’re going to be looking into Vader?” 

“Multiple reasons. Vader is seen by the council and the chancellor as a Sith Lord. They call him Darth Vader. Other’s know him as Lord Protector Vader.” 

“That does seem odd,” Ahsoka agreed, “why have two sides of him?” 

“Manipulation, clever manipulation. We know Vader is a force sensitive, no doubt about that, we know they are ambitious and intelligent with battle skills and knowledge. They probably have the backing of the Ohnaka gang.” 

“So do we go to the Ohnaka gang or do we go find Darth Vader?” 

“I haven’t decided. Darth Vader might be the more direct route, but I don’t want to play our hand too soon. If Vader is a Lord Protector, we need to know what their plans are.” 

“But we’re supposed to go to Circumtore.They need the hyperspace lane for the war.”

“Perhaps that is why Circumtore has fallen. Another thing, if they don’t want to allow the Republic to use the lane, they might defend it as theirs.” 

“Why they’re not even a real recognized government!”

“Neither are the Hutts, for all the treaties that they’ve signed with the Hutt clans, there was never an official ratification of their government.” 

“Then why do we care?” 

“Because the Hutts have power and money and control enormous parts of the outer rim. Do you remember your first mission with Anakin?” 

“You mean saving the baby Hutt. They stink.” 

“The baby Hutt. Saving him was a political move on the part of the council. That they assigned Anakin to it was a crime. Still, with the Hutt pleased, we are allowed the use of the Hyperspace lanes.” 

“I’m still a little confused.” 

“If,” Plo poured her another cup of tea, “the Hutts are off Circumtore, having been battled to a standstill by a mysterious armada that is being led by a Lord Protector/ Sith Lord. Who we suspect of being sponsored by Honodo Ohnaka. Then someone else is vying for power on the outer rim. Someone with funding and ships.” 

“That’s a whole lot of implications.” 

“I have very good reason to believe that I am correct.” 

“So?” 

“If someone is taking control of the outer rim, then the whole course of the war may change.” 

“Okay,” Ahsoka stared, “I feel like we should go to this Honodo lady. If you know her, you should take some flowers.” 

“Flowers?” 

“Anakin used to take flowers to Senator Amidala whenever we went to visit her. Sometimes he just brought a rock. You know, to show that he was thinking about her.” 

“I see.” Plo Koon waited for several moments before speaking further. “What do you think of this Vader?” 

“I don’t know, um, if he is a Sith then don’t you think the Separatists are going to try to be friends with him? Don’t they need Dooku or something to agree to it. Also, if he’s not a Sith and he’s just trying to do the right thing and clean house on the outer rim, then we’re probably going to be sent to stop him.” 

“Probably.” 

“Because everyone is used to dealing with the Hutts.”

“Yes.” 

“Someone trying to establish a government or another foothold of power in the outer rim would disrupt everything. Which is why we’re investigating Vader, who we think is doing that.”

“Exactly.” 

“Let me guess, there’s more than just Nar Shadda and Circumtore?” 

“Yes, there have been reports of unknown agents attacking and destroying different shipments belonging to criminal organizations, Separatists ships, and even Republic ones.” 

“What are they taking?”

“It seems to be everything. 

“So what are we going to do?” 

“I was thinking,” Plo Koon said, “that we should manage to find a game to play.” 

“A game?” 

“Yes.” 

“What about Vader? What about this Honodo? What about the war?” 

“They will all be here tomorrow,” Plo said patiently, “we will be here tomorrow. So, we are going to relax.” 

“But,” Ahsoka wavered over her worried and finally settled down with a sigh. “I guess.”

#$$#$#

Obi-Wan stared at the grimy wall, thinking slowly. His pack rested at his feet, and his lightsaber was tucked into his jacket pocket, his hood hung over his face. He couldn’t have any more pathetic. 

“You,” he didn’t stir as an official tone broke through the crowd. Around him, people shifted away. “Get up!”

“What do you want?” He didn’t stand, but tilted his head back enough to see the solider. Here, in Separatist territory, the police forces seemed somehow less strict than those back in the Republic. If he’d been sitting beside a Republic office looking so suspicious he would have been arrested instantly. Still, the twi’lek glowering at him didn’t seem impressed. 

“This is not a space for you to rest, sir.” 

“There’s no where for me to rest,” Obi-Wan leaned his head against the metal of the building. “Go away.” 

“Look, sir,” the officer sighed deeply, “I’m not here to arrest you unless you cause trouble.” 

“Then what do you want?” 

“You’ve been,” the police officer stomped over to Obi-Wan, shaking his finger at him. Startled by the suddenness, Obi-Wan blinked. “Sitting here for a day now. Not only have you not eaten, you also haven’t moved. That is not healthy for anyone.”

“I’m not doing anything.” 

“That’s part of the problem. Please get up, there is a shelter for homeless just down the road. There is also an office for refugees seeking aid just up the block.” 

“I’m not a refugee, and I’m not homeless,” Obi-Wan pulled his hood back down, “I’m sitting here.” 

“Sir,” the officer’s voice rose, “please move yourself.” Obi-Wan glowered at his knees and then at the police officer. 

“No.” 

“There is not need to be so ridiculous. There is a help, but you need to move yourself before you become a public health hazard.”

“No.” 

Two Hour Later

“So?” Captain Elto sipped his caf and glanced at his officer, “who’s the joker in the cell?” 

“I,” Officer Kii rubbed his head, “I don’t know. He was sitting against the back wall of the administration building, but he started a fight with my partner. Apparently, my partner just wanted to move him to a safer or warmer location. Started fighting, knocked out a bunch of people, and tried to make off. Still, sitting down for a day doesn’t do anything for human legs. They gave out to him, and we’ve,” he waved at the image of the vagabond looking human. “Arrested him. Unless we gas him, we can’t get to any of this stuff. He hasn’t said anything since we arrested him, through that big bottle of alcohol did fall out of his pocket.” 

“Alcohol?” 

“Yes, sir. A nice big bottle, a language I don’t understand. I’ve checked it into evidence already.” 

“Then what about the rest of his stuff?” 

“I don’t know, got lost in the scuffle apparently. He did have a pack, but it’s gone.” 

“Then,” Captain Elto pressed the button, “Prisoner, what is your name?” The human in the cell didn’t move. “Prisoner.” 

“I don’t,” the man seemed to waver, finally looking around for the source of the voice. “No.” He seemed to retract in on himself and stilled again. Elto and Kii glanced at each other. “Gas him?” 

“We’re going to have to, see what his name is and where we can ship him off to.” 

“What do we do with him if we don’t find a name?” 

“Then we ship him somewhere, anywhere. This is Serrano; we can’t focus our attention on some man we found. Our focus is on security.” 

“We’ll figure out his name then, sir.” 

#$#$#

Padme Amidala was almost surprised when Corellia’s senator, a tall human man with wild brown hair and eyes, stormed into her office. His expression was pinched with fury, and one hand sat on a blaster holster. 

Her own security moved to intercept, stopping the man before he’d made it halfway across the floor. 

“Senator Corellia,” she smiled briefly, “what can I do for you?” She ignored his anger.

“Why the kriff is there a bill proposing a draft on the registry!” His voice echoed around the room, “a draft! Why would we even have a draft! We have clones!”

“I’m not sure,” Padme lied, “there are those that feel that having a draft would be cheaper than continuing to order clone troopers from Kamino.” 

“Listen, Amidala; we gotta talk. We’ve got to defeat this draft bill,” Senator Corellia glanced over at the security, “sorry for shoving my way in, but we’ve really got to talk.” 

“Of course,” Padme agreed instantly, “let me get my coat.” 

“What?” 

“I’m hungry, Senator, and I’d like to have a civil discussion over food.” Padme reversed into her office and grabbed her cloak. 

Twenty minutes later Padme and the Corellian senator, named Mako, were sitting beside a public greenhouse and eating take-out. Mako seemed confused at the turn of events but hadn’t turned down the free food. 

“So,” Padme had forestalled any conversation until they’d reached the blackout spot that Senator Dilla had told her about. There were no listening devices here, and it was regularly swept by journalists and investigative reporters to keep anyone from being or becoming a danger. For a whole planet that was wired and bugged from the surface and back, a three-foot radius of silence was near impossible. There were more on the planet, but this one was closest to the senate dome. “What is this about a draft bill.” 

“You had to have seen it; it’s in the registry.” 

“I saw it, I’ve read it. I wasn’t sure what to do about it.” Padme wondered why it was only the spicy, non-Core food that was keeping her stomach from going volcanic. 

“Look, the problem with the draft is huge for Corellia. We’ve got five independently settled planets, twelve moons and fuck knows how many asteroids! Five different species! The Corellian system is one of the most densely populated in the galaxy with the highest birth-rate in the entire kriffing galaxy! Listen, the draft is based on each systems drinking age, right?” 

“Right.” 

“So based on the drinking age on Corellia,” he stared down at his food, “it’s sixteen. You’re too old for the draft at retirement age, which is 65 on Corellia.” 

“Senator.” 

“Amidala,” Mako stated at her with a desperate expression, “16-65 means a lot of people. It means that every university is going to be empty. If they draft, even on a few different dates, nearly the entire recruitment is going to be Corellians. Seriously, 65% of the first five dates they pull are going to be Corellians. I had my staff run the numbers. It’s going to be a mess. And if the war continues? Our population will be decimated! Not just that, they’re still going to be raising those taxes, and we can’t afford that! We can’t funnel our entire fucking population into a war that’s a huge waste of time and space. Corellia has its own problems!” 

“I know that since the bill to fund more clone troopers failed.” 

“You’re doing.”

“Then they are looking for alternatives to fight the droid armies. That means a draft. I don’t like this draft either.” 

“Why do you care?” Mako snapped, “because that wrinkled ball sack is from Naboo, your planet is exempt.” Padme nearly choked on her food. It had been years since she’d heard anyone discuss Palpatine with such insulting tones. “That old fart is ruining the Republic. Ever since he took over, he’s been restricting Corellia even more.”

“I don’t know if there is a way to stop the bill,” Padme said slowly, “have you considered speaking before the assembly?” 

“I could, but who give a shit if Corellians go off and die in a war. Hell, Amidala! Our drinking age is 16! They want to send a bunch of 16-year-olds into a war zone?” 

“The clones are only ten to thirteen.” Padme felt compelled to point out. It was worth it, to see how thunderstruck his looked. 

“What?” 

“The clones are grown at an accelerated rate, the oldest among them is 13.” 

“What?” 

“Senator.” 

“I heard what you said,” Mako snarled, he chewed his food and thought. “Where did they even come from?” Padme blinked. “If the oldest is 13, the youngest are like, 10, they still needed those years to grow. The war only started a year ago. Why the hell are there fully grown clones right when we needed them?” 

“I don’t,” Padme paused, wondering if she’d actually ever considered that before. She had, she realized, but the thought had kept slipping away as the war had escalated so suddenly and violently. “I don’t know.” 

Mako straightened, “That’s sketchy.” 

“It is,” she agreed. 

“Listen, I’m not going to allow my citizens to go to war and be the biggest contributors to the war. I don’t care. We’ve been building the ships, supplying the tools, training facilities, the repair facilities; I’m not sending more people to die in a stupid war. I won’t support this draft bill. Can I count on your support? “

“Yes.” The whole point of getting the draft bill started was to pretend she hadn’t had a hand in writing it. To pretend she hadn't influenced its beginning. 

“We vote on it in two weeks,” Mako stood up, “I’ve got two weeks to make this bill go away. I’m going to Senator Organa next, want to come?” 

“I’m sorry,” Padme patted her stomach, “I’m still hungry. Though please give Bail my greetings.” 

“Right,” Mako gave her a lazy salute and his tall for loped off into the crowd of greenhouse visitors. Padme smiled to herself and wondered just what he was going to do.


	16. Han Solo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corellia protests and Han is offered a choice.

“For all of your intelligence operatives on the outer rim, you cannot understand why our master plan is suddenly derailed?” Count Dooku flinched as Palpatine glowered down at him, lightning sparked occasionally between his finger tips. “Manipulating the hutts is useless when their own criminal syndicate is falling out from beneath their bloated corpses.” Sidious stewed in his anger for a long moment. “Who is this Vader?”

 

“No one knows, my lord,” Dooku reluctantly told him. “In only a few short weeks he has amassed a fleet of warships, crushed the mercenaries of the Hutts. From what I have understood, though I may be wrong, I believe this VAder character may be attempting to establish an independent government.” 

“The Confederacy already exists,” Sidious snarled, “what would slaves and whores and smugglers want with a government?” 

“I do not know, my lord,” Dooku paused, “we have attempted to contact with anyone within this organization, but we’ve had no luck so far.”

“The Jedi believe that this Vader person is a Sith Lord. Darth Vader,” Sidious glowered down at him, “you have taken dozens of apprentices, Tyrannus, this is not another one of your failed projects?” 

“No, my lord.” He stole a glance at Sidious, who’s anger hadn’t abated. “The war can continue as scheduled, my lord. Vader is only a temporary setback.”

“That might be true, if we understood who Vader was and what his motivations were! This might also be true,” Sidious snarled, “if Obi-Wan Kenobi hadn't vanished off the face of the known universe!”

Dooku finally looked up properly, “What?” 

Sidious continued to glower at him, “Vanished,” he repeated, “Kenobi has failed to report into his master's for two weeks now.”

“Obi-Wan has consistently failed to report in, my lord. That is not so unusual.”

“His starfighter was found, abandoned.”

“Alarming, but again, not necessarily missing. He may be deep cover. If, whatever his mission was, was sensitive.” Dooku watched Palpatine’s expression twist around until he was less annoyed. “Kenobi has always been an unconventional Jedi. I am sure that he will return soon enough.” 

“He must, he is necessary for the continuation of our plan.” Dooku blinked as Sidious glowered continuously. 

“I have also received reports,” Dooku said reluctantly, “that Vader and his cohorts have attacked CIS ships as well as Republic ships.” 

“I am aware, apprentice. If Vader attempt to carve out a territory with any success, then we will be delayed by decades. Anyone replacing the Hutts on the outer rim, damages that delicate balance of power there. Our entire war will be lost.” 

“Surely the Jedi see the danger of another separated nation-state in a territory they claimed as their own?” 

“They are more concerned with the existence of another Sith lord. The line of Revan may have survived. That is cause for alarm, apprentice. The line of Revan has always been the strongest and the most powerful of force users.” 

“If it is the line of Revan,” Dooku said, “then our position of power may be in contention.” 

“The two Sith lines have always attempted to wipe each other from existence.” Palpatine leaned back. “Find Vader, bring him to me.” 

“As you command,” Dooku said slowly, wondering if any of his agents would be able to reach him. Vader was wrapped in mystery, and had only ever been on holo film twice. Each time he loomed in the distance, terrifying and shrouded in darkness. 

#$#$#$’

Han Solo sat up slowly and listened for the people who shared the ranch house. Voices came from down the hall, some of them human and most of them not. He glanced at the door, and found it still tightly shut. 

Bright sunlight gleamed through the window, brightening the room and waking Han even more. He paused, yawning a bit, and pushed the blankets back to climb out of bed. 

As much as he pretended to hate the entire planet, Han had gotten accustomed to it quickly. The days were longer than he was used to, something the adults like to counter with a nap. He didn’t like naps, but he also found that he didn’t have the energy to make it through the entire day if he didn’t take one. 

Actually, taking naps meant that he got to bother the adults in the house a lot longer and a lot more effectively in the evening. It also make him feel better than Caleb Dume also took naps. Though not because someone told him to, because he wanted to. 

After running his hands through his hair and rubbing the gunk from his eyes, Han moved into the hallway and was halfway to the kitchen when he heard someone shout. 

“I don’t care! He’s only a little kid! This is the problem! I don’t care what sort of political leverage we get from it!” It was Dr. Tani, a man so infuriatingly calm that he had only mildly scolded Han when he’d attached repulsors to the side of his rocking chair while he’d been napping in it, and pushed it out of the house and out over the surface of a nearby pond. 

As soon as they heard him coming, some of them had better hearing than him, the entire room went silent. Han edged into the kitchen, hiding his nervousness with a scowl. He had the strangest feeling they were talking about him. 

“Hello, Han,” Dr. Tani said instantly, “have a good nap?” Han ignored the question for the moment, glowering at the other adults and daring them to laugh at him. Most of them actually looked jealous. Honodo looked annoyed, which wasn’t unusual. Hondo wasn’t smiling for once, and the others were unrecognizable. 

“It was fine,” he said slowly, “what’s going on?” 

“Politics,” Hondo said instantly. Han made a face. “Exactly, it would not interest you. You don’t want to be a politician, do you?” 

“I’m going to be the best starfighter pilot in the galaxy,” Han told the assembled adults.

“Ugh,” he caught sight of a Twi’lek woman, middle-aged and with bright green skin, “that’s exactly what that Syndulla kid said. What is it with kids these days wanting to fly.” 

“Ships are a better investment,” Han said, puffing out his chest. “You think I can ever buy a house and settle down? I can’t have a plot of land tying to me anyone place! Do I look like I’m the marrying kind?”

“You’re ten,” the twi’lek said flatly and Han nodded imperiously. 

 

“Sure am, and I’m a damn good pilot.”

“Language,” Dr. Tani sighed, “Han, do you want a donut?” 

“Not if you’re using it to get me out of the room,” Han said, “I want to know what’s up.” He stomped across the room and took one of the chairs. The adults all stared at him curiously. “I’m old enough, what’s going on?” 

“Nothing, Han.” 

“There is something going on! I want to know what it is!” He smacked the table.

“It’s about Corellia,” Honodo said, ignoring the glower from her associates. 

“Then I have to know. I’m Corellian and it matters to me.” 

“What do you know about politics right now?” She leaned on the table. 

“Mama! He is a baby! He is too young!”

Han leaned on the table took, glaring at the ancient weequay. “I know the galaxy’s in an industrial compactor. I know that the war is pretty ugly.” 

“Did you know that the Galactic Senate is considering installing a draft?” 

“So?” 

“Let’s just say that the draft would decimate the population of Corellia. Millions would be drafted daily, until the entire system was empty. Everyone off fighting the war for the Republic.” 

“But Corellia already does everything for the stupid galaxy. We’ve got the best flying academies, the best shipyards, the best booze, and the best women. They can’t have everything!” 

“Is is very disturbing to hear Shrike’s words coming from your mouth,” Hondo said.

“I learned this all from the pilots we met on deals or cons. I didn’t listen to anything that poser said,” Han tossed his short hair. “Did you really mean everyone?”

“Everyone from 16 to 65. From the drinking age to legal retirement.”

“I know that they’re already pressing people into service,” Han said, biting his lips. “Mostly smugglers though.” 

“I’ve heard that too,” a rodian, “but that doesn’t solve the problem.”

“Well,” Han stared at the adults, “I guess just make it illegal to draft people then, right.” 

“How?” 

“I don’t know! Think of something crazy! Making the drinking age like 65. They can’t draft under the drinking age!” Instead of the explosion of laughter and the mocking jibs that might have come from his gang. The adults were totally silent and thunderstruck. “I was kidding,” he said.

“I know,” Honodo said with a faraway look in her eyes. “It was very funny. I am obviously laughing.” 

“Uh, guys,” the adults continued to think in silence. Dr. Tani was also staring at Han with an expression that worried him. “Guys?”

“It might work,” Hondo said. “It is crazy and it might work. The Republic can’t go against that.” 

“No, it would be totally legal too. The treaty with Corellia means that they can’t interfere with the inner workings of the system.”

“You can’t raise the drinking age to 65! It’s Corellia, there would be rioting in the streets!”

“There would be rioting in the streets anyway with a draft. Corellians are terrible at obeying orders.”

“We sure are,” Han puffed out his chest, “the Republic can suck it.”

Dr. Tani pressed his hand over his face, sighing deeply. “Han, please watch your language. Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“I was thinking to the hanger. You can tell me all about the ships there.” 

Han bit his lips. He wavered between his intense desire to know what the adults were discussing and how much he wanted to spend time with some ships. He wavered, “I’ve solved the problem,” he proclaimed, “I’m going to look at ships.” He clambered down, stole a donut, and made a break for the door; Dr. Tani on his heels. 

When the young pilot was gone Honodo gestured expansively at the others. “He is perfect. No one but a king would have come up with such a ridiculous plan.” 

“It is a stupid plan,” the Corellian who had brought the news, leaned against the table, “not only that, you’ have no proof that that is Prince Han. None.”

“He bears a striking resemblance to the last king, doesn’t he?” 

“He looks like the rest of Corellia!” The human exclaimed, “hell, he could be my kid!” 

“He is Han Solo though.” 

“You think he is Han Solo. I can’t take the idea that the last surviving member of the Solo family is alive and told me that we should raise the drinking age to the retirement age before the Corellian House of Citizens. They’ll throw me out.” 

“That should cement the idea,” Hondo said, “you are a silly system.” 

“Plus, do you know how many people come forward saying they have the Solo heir? A lot of people try this scam. It doesn’t work. We have a eight step process to make sure that the prince is the prince. Every single one of those imposters has failed. Why? They can’t even fake a proper DNA test!” The representative slapped the table, “look, I support what your doing, Honodo, but there is no way that you can try and control Corellia through a ten-year-old with trust issues.”

“I am not looking to control Corellia,” Honodo said slowly, with exaggerated patience that mean she annoyed. “Corellia has a problem, yes?” 

“Yes,” Representative Volker watched the weequay produce a datapad from her pocket. The others remained quiet. 

“What is this problem?” 

“A draft is up on the bill registry, due to be voted on in 13 days. If voted yes, Corellia would be the most hit and damaged by the draft.” 

“Alright, so far,” Honodo continued slowly, “your people have come up with nothing that doesn’t break your treaty with the Republic. A very nice treaty, maintaining almost total independence and autonomy.”

“Yes.”

“That boy,” she pointed in the direction Han had vanished. “Came up with an idea that does not violate your treaty with the Republic. Not only that, if you do it, it gives a very loud message to the Republic that you are very close to being finished with its bullshit.” 

“It would make a hell of a statement.” 

“Exactly.” 

“The idea isn’t too bad,” Volker finally said, “but no one in their right mind is going to give a throne to that kid.” He ran his fingers through his hair. The salt and pepper locks flopped about as he shook his head. “He is ten!” 

“The boy grants authority to a throne, even one that isn’t being used.”

“Please don’t lecture me on politics?” 

“Why not? I’m older than you. What are you going to do?”

“I,” Volker pursed his lips, “I need to speak to a fellow representative before I do anything.”

‘’Why.” Hondo demanded, “what is the trouble?” 

“Representative Uwe used to serve the royal family directly,” Volker said tiredly, “he actually knew the princes and the princesses before.” He paused, “before the mess started. Anyway, he’ll know what to do. He is the one who runs the tests for the scammers who pretend that their kid is the royal prince. It’s his commission that checks on them. Get me a holo of the kid and a DNA sample and I’ll give them to him. That’ll get the preliminaries out of the way. Somehow, somehow, it’ll segue into the idea that we should raise the drinking age to 65.” 

“Fine,” Honodo said, she waved at her son, who left. “Also, you are still wrong. I do not want to control Corellia. It would be impossible, tyrants have tried and failed.” 

“Good, because you’d probably fail spectacularly.”

“Then why bother with the kid then? You wouldn’t push something like this unless you really wanted something. Least, that’s what my dad always said.”

“Han deserves a place where he belongs.”

“He looks comfortable as a criminal.” Volker gesture with his hat before smacking it against his thigh.

“That’s because he is a born and true Corellian,” Honodo pointed out, “you’re going to want to make sure your meeting concludes quickly. You don’t have very much time.” 

“I know,” Volker waited until Hondo jogged back into the room with a some vial with a few hairs, and a holo recorder. He took them and tucked them into his jacket pocket. “I’ll call you within the day.” Without another word, he left the small ranch house. The other conspirators were quiet for a long minute before Hondo spoke up. 

“Why do we want to throw that much responsibility on the little human. Mama, he is ten! I couldn’t even walk when I was ten!” 

“You were a sad child,” Honodo agreed absently, picking link off her great-coat. “But he is a human and humans mature quickly.” 

“Not that fast,” Hondo pointed to the only human left in the room. “Do you think you could have run a system when you were ten?” 

“When I was ten I ate dirt.” 

“Exactly! Humans are stupid! Han is young.” 

“If he had stayed the prince, he would have known the same amount of responsibilities as he will have.”

Hondo privately agreed, but was not convinced. 

#$#$#$

Darth Revan’s holo was reluctant to open at Anakin’s command. Why, he wasn’t sure, but when Revan flickered into existence, the Sith was staring warily about. 

“Revan?” 

“What has happened?” 

“What do you mean?” Anakin watched the Sith turn slowly around. “What is it?” 

“Something is wrong,” Revan stared down at Anakin, “what have you done?” 

“I don’t,” the room’s temperature plummeted and another person appeared. The avatar of the living force was an old togruta woman, taller than Anakin by two feet and with montreal's that went down to her knees. At the sight of the woman, Revan dropped to his knees and bowed until his mask was nearly touching an invisible floor. The sudden and soundless prostration by a Sith that was remembered by myth and legends too fantastic to be real, shocked the newly titled Lord Protector. 

“Um,” sensing that he was out of his depth, Anakin fell silent. 

Revan remained still under the intense scrutiny of his father. Something that he was familiar with, but had been mostly shielded from the effects by way of his inheritance. Revan, though Anakin didn’t know it, felt as if he was being crushed by a weight. Every moment of his life being picked apart, each cell in his ghostly body was being judged. There was nothing the Living Force didn’t see. Under the gaze, he trembled half with pain and half with terror. If there was a way to make himself seem smaller, he would have opted for it. 

“You are Revan,” the voice that echoed from the avatars mouth was akin to thunder in his bones. Revan gritted his teeth and forced out a pained answer. 

“Yes.” He tacked nothing onto the end. How did one address the living force anyway?

“Only a perversion of the truth would have allowed you to exist in such a state beyond your natural death.” A near agonizing silence followed. “When my sons task is complete you will attend to me immediately afterward.” Revan may not have wanted it, but the moment the order was issued, it was practically ingrained in his soul. Even if he’d even considered disobeying a direct order from the Living Force, Revan would not have been able to. “Leave us.” Unlike when the holocron was closed down by a human, usually slowly so he could fold himself back into the glass and metal; one moment he was out and the next he was in. 

Anakin saw the holocron open was second and the next it rolled to the floor, closed. It was and then it wasn’t. 

“What was that?” He watched his father somewhat warily. The togruta turned from a woman to a man in a few slow seconds. The avatar smiled. 

“You will understand when you join me, my son.” 

“Oh,” he chewed on his bottom lip, “er…” 

“You have made this your home.” The avatar turned around to survey the room and it’s tatooine flair. 

“I thought it was about time,” Anakin fiddled with his mask carefully. “I’ve never really had a home before.” He didn’t mean to sound accusatory, but he did. He winced as the togruta paused, looking at a picture of Padme. “I sent her a letter,” Anakin said. “I told her that I was alive.” 

“You will need to re-send it,” the Living Force said. “If did not arrive.” 

“It didn’t?” 

“The pilot was shot-down over Republic airspace under the suspicion that he was an agent of the CIS.” The words were spoken as if he was reading them directly from a memo somewhere. “Nothing survived the wreck.” 

“Oh,” Anakin sat down on the end of his bed. He had been very sincere in the letter and it had been near agonizing to write. “Alright then, Father, do you see her?” 

“I have not visited. Would you like me to?” 

“Would you?” Anakin asked hopefully, “A little outside your purview, but I don’t know if she’s alright. She thinks I’m dead and there’s not a lot of people on Coruscant who will help take care of her.” 

“I will see to her,” he promised, “Son, what have you been doing in the time since I have last spoken to you?” 

“I,” Anakin tilted his head to the side, “you don’t know.”

“I am aware of all and everything. I am aware that this,” the now toddler sized togruta, “is bonding.” 

“Ah, right,” Anakin bit his lip. “I well, I’ve been working on opening up a third from in the war. Um, wreaking havoc. Spreading the idea that I’m a Sith Lord. Some people think that I’m going to bring hope.” 

“Won’t you?” 

“I suppose,” Anakin wasn’t sure if he was doing any good.

#$#$#$#$

In the privacy of her office, which was usually suspect anyway, Padme watched as Corellians in every district, every planet, every city, and every walk of life, marched in protest. The draft bill had caught the attention of the media, and was across the galaxy in seconds. Corellian new agencies, ran the numbers and statistics and came up with the same result. 

Corellia would be the backbone of the conscripted army. 

Thus, the protests. Larger than any one protest that Padme had ever seen. She leaned closer to the window, watching as the seething mass of furious civilians. Clone troopers and security droids ringed them, tense and worried that the protest would turn violent. 

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” she pressed her hands to her stomach and patted soothingly. “Don’t worry, they are exercising their rights at citizens.This is perfectly normal.” She turned from her window and moved to her desk where her holo was activated to show the feeds of the protests across the galaxy. Some signs were clever, some obscene, and others were hilarious. Padme grinned, the chaos was exactly what she wanted. 

“Senator Amidala.” her desk chimed at her. 

“Yes?” 

“There is a reporter requesting to interview you, ma’am.” 

“Which outlet?” 

She glanced at the civilians on the screens and wondered if she should dangle herself out in front of them. 

“The usual ma’am.” She sighed. 

“Very well. Let them into the interview chamber and let them set up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dorme’s voice faded and the senator rolled her eyes. There was nothing worse than being interviewed by a news agency with the idea that they could lead her into a verbal trap. She also hated conservative news agencies. 

#$#$$#$

Representative Volker watched with bated breath as the theme jingle of Wolf News faded and the image was replaced by their beaming, heavily made up newscaster, and the much more elegant image of Padme Amidala. 

“Good Afternoon watcher and listeners! It’s been an interesting day at the Senate Dome and today we have Senator Amidala with us.” The Nubian senator nodded graciously at the camera. “Thank you for coming, Senator.” 

“Thank you for inviting me, Ms. Liti.” 

“Well,” the woman shuffled some papers around, “let’s get started. Senator, today the galaxy was shocked by the sudden protests that erupted around the galaxy. More specifically, hundreds of civilians were around the Senate Dome today. Did you feel unsafe?” 

“Why would I feel unsafe?” Amidala asked sweetly. 

“So many angry people,” Mr. Liti laughed, “out in full force. You weren’t a little frightened?” 

“I have no reason to be afraid of protestors.” Volker bit his lip. “The protesting of a bill that civilians feel is unjust is one of the fundamental rights of the people.”

“The bill they were.” 

“Are.” 

Ms. Liti blinked, “excuse me?” 

“The bill they are protesting,” Amidala said, “the protests have not stopped.” 

“Well, of course not.” 

“And the bill has not been voted on. The vote isn’t scheduled until later next week.”

“Of course not,” the condescending smile was annoying to Volker, and he was across the galaxy. “The bill in question is one that would begin the formation of a draft.” 

“Yes.” 

“And that the drafted military would replace the diminishing clone army. Which, watchers if you remember this, you campaigned heartily against the expansion of.” 

“I did.” 

“Can you tell us why?” 

Senator Amidala smiled so politely that it may as well have been a slap to the newscasters face. “I believe I made myself clear in my speech on the senate floor. The continue purchase is a matter of dangerously reckless spending and abandoned ethics.”

“Of course, and with the draft the clones would no longer be needed. The war against the Separatists could be waged with Republic citizens.” 

“It could,” Amidala agreed, “if civilians wanted to wage a war.” 

“Don’t you think that the fact that so many people are protesting a draft also have supported the discontinuing the clone troopers is a little ridiculous. If they were true patriots they would and should have no concern with fighting a war. Don’t you think these protests are just a little bit of a trantrum?” 

“No,” Padme said slowly, “the right to protest is a right protected by this Republic constitution.”

“You already said that,” Ms. Liti pointed out. 

“I don’t appear to have heard me.” Volker bit back a laugh. “The civilian who don’t want to fight a war have the right to protest.” 

“But they should fight the war,” Ms. Liti said. 

“These civilians may disagree,” Padme said firmly. 

“The war is vital to keep the Republic alive and strong,” Ms. Liti said, grasping at straw. “Giving into the terrorists Confederacy is the absolute last thing we need. What would it say of the Republic gave into their demands. If they established their own government? The galaxy would be chaos now.” 

Padme was quiet for a few minutes, staring steadily at Ms. Liti. “This is a newscasting segment,” she said finally. “Not an opinion segment or the place for an unwanted editorial. The facts are these. The protests are regarding the draft bill which is to be voted on in a week and a half. Also, that if the draft was passed, Corellian planets would send the most conscripted.” 

“Yes, but.” 

“If you support the draft and what you think of the protests, if your opinion. It is not fact. You cannot stand in front of these cameras and make the largest organized civilian protest into nothing more than a riot or a group of rabble rousers.” 

“I think that.” 

“Your opinion is irrelevant to the news,” Senator Amidala’s voice tightened, and she appeared to be gritting her teeth. 

“Our agencies statistics teams says that these protesters “facts”,” the woman rolled her eyes. “Are all fake.” 

“The fact that you have managed to conjure a different set of number than the eighteen different independent statistics agencies that also ran the numbers, does not mean that they are correct and should be given much consideration. The argument must be presented with the proper data. Right now, the data overwhelmingly supports the office of the Corellian senator.” 

“Well.”

“If a request came to my office for the specific purpose to angle for my disapproval of the protestors and to give the impression that their complaint isn’t valid, means that we are finished. I will not condemn people who protest for their rights and for their safety.” She stood suddenly, shocking the Representative and everyone else watching. “Good day. I would like, Ms. Liti, I can have my officer send you a few materials that will helpfully explain the different in opinion and fact. As well as a few basics on how to properly conduct an interview.” Without another word, she swept out of line of the cameras. Volker switched his holo off and turned to his contemporary. 

“So,” he drew the word out, hopefully to avoid the awkward acknowledgment that he hadn’t gotten to his point yet. “Representative Uwe.” 

“The protests aren’t going to stop the draft.” Uwe said slowly, he leaned back in his chair. “You know that. Why did you want to meet?” 

“Maybe the point isn’t stopping the draft,” Volker rocked back and forth for a moment. The older man, his black hair gone gray and his face heavily wrinkled, didn’t move. “But to advert it and in doing so make sure that the whole galaxy knows that Corellia is done with the Republics shit.” 

“How do you propose to do that?” Uwe asked, tapping his pencil on the desk. Volker seemed reluctant to speak, and unsure what to say. 

“Alright, what I’ve got to tell you comes in two parts. First,” Volker swallowed and watched Uwe carefully for a moment. “Alright, a new candidate is possible for your commission.”

“Another scammer,” the older man leaned back in his chair.

“Maybe...maybe not. But the idea I am about to propose is his idea.” 

“You took an idea from a ten-year-old?” 

“Borrowed.” 

“We are not sticking tacks on the seat of senators who disagree with us,” the representative said dryly, “we’ll stick fake seats filled with water where their usual chairs are.” 

“We raise the drinking age to retirement age.” Volker blurted. Uwe stared silently, clearly confused but unsure what to say. “Look, the legal drinking age is the age when they have to register for the draft. The cut off point is retirement age. Want to protect people, raise the drinking age to 65.”

“That,” Uwe managed out a choked noise and fell silent again. His eyes were wide and he stared into the distance. For several minutes there was only silence. “It is totally absurd.” 

“It’ll work. If we can get the system on board.” 

“In a week and a half?” 

“Yep.” 

“And you say who came up with this plan?” 

“A boy named Han Solo. Um, which you probably expected.” 

“Do you have his data?” 

“Yeah,” Volker pulled the holo and the vial from his bag and passed them over. “I know where he is if he checks out in the first few tests.”

“Of course.” Uwe activated the holo and stared. It was Han, standing on top of a ship and glowering down at the person who had taken the image. For a long moment he only stared and he stored it away. Ten minutes later he had the hair samples examined and the data sheet spit out by the droid that had been powered down in the corner of the office. 

“You keep these things on hand?” 

“Makes kicking out the scammers easy and early. I don’t have time for this nonsense.” 

“Of course,” Volker bit his thumb as Uwe looked up. 

“If it is a scam it is a very good one. I’ll meet with them.” 

“Whaaaaat?” 

“I need to meet with them to complete the rest of the tests.” Uwe tilted his head to the side. “Then we figure out how to tell the whole system that we’re going to have to abstain from alcohol for a while.”

“I can’t decide what people are going to protest about more the draft or the new drinking age. Volker, start meeting with other representatives and tell them this idea. It is ridiculous but it is our best shot. Also, get me the contact information of the people taking care of the kid.”

“I’ll let them know that you want to meet,” Volker said, “but I can’t give you their contact information. They aren’t….evil. I promise. They aren’t leveraging for anything right now. They just think that the kid is the prince.”

“If he is the prince, they get the reward. It is a pretty substantial reward.” 

“I know,” he bite his lip again. “Please, trust me.” 

“I probably don’t have a choice. Start getting this idea around the other offices and we’ll go from there.” 

#$#$#4

 

Han Solo was familiar with chaos and trouble. He knew when adults were hiding secrets from him, and he knew when something was about to happen. When Dr. Tani and Honodo and Hondo all went into the communication room (kitchen) and he heard indistinct shouting; he knew it was time to clear out. 

He grabbed Caleb and told him he wanted to go for a hike. They hiked away from the house for a few hours until the former Jedi finally asked him what was wrong.

“I think that they’re going to kick me off the planet,” he kicked a few rocks over and didn’t look at the Jedi.

“Why would they do that? You’ve only been here for a few weeks.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Han said miserably. “I don’t think they like me because I caught problems. That’s why they’re arguing about me. I think Honodo hates me.” 

“Honodo doesn’t hate you,” Caleb said reflexively, “I promise you. She sees you as a young grandson. That’s the way she sees me too. And, anyway. I don’t think they are going to get rid of you just because you’ve misbehaved.” 

“People don’t like trouble kids.” 

“You aren’t a trouble kid,” Caleb followed on his heels into the woods.

“Yeah I am,” Han stuffed his hands in pockets and glowered at the other boy. “Not all of us can be ex-Jedi with lots of trauma.

“I don’t,” Caleb sighed, “I was abandoned and Hondo found me. I made a choice to not go back to the Jedi. If they don’t kick me out after lightsabering a bunch of things in two, then they can tolerate you pranking them.” 

“But what if they want to get rid of me?”

“I thought you didn’t like it here.” 

“I don’t hate it,” Han admitted sulkily, “I just. I just want Dewlanna and I want to fly again. I hate being stuck here.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Caleb said, “if they kick you out then I’ll go with you.” 

“Go where?” 

“Anywhere you want,” the ex-jedi glanced at this comm unit. “They want us back at the house.” He didn’t miss the way that Han’s eyes shifted around suspiciously and he started backing away from him. “Han, do you really think that they’d get rid of you?” 

“If you grew up the way that I grew up then you’d know not to trust adults.” 

“Where I grew up,” Caleb held out a hand for the younger human to take. After a few reluctant seconds, Han took it. “The adults all judged you until they thought they could use you. If they couldn’t then they’d force you into indentured servitude on a farm. My own teacher abandoned me because she thought that it would be better for her to not look for me. I understand how you feel, but not matter what they want, I can promise that they won’t abandon you.” 

“You don’t know that.” The hike back was peaceful, despite Han’s obvious worries. He didn’t let go of Caleb the entire time, clinging to him desperately. When they did make it back to the ranch house, Dr. Tani was standing at the back steps looking solemn and furious. Han shrank into Caleb’s side. 

“I’m sorry about the paint and the bucket,” Han blurted out, “please don’t toss me out.” 

“Toss you?” The doctor looked from Han to Caleb, who shrugged. “Han, I’m not angry at you. I promise.” 

“But.” 

“Han,” Dr. Tani leaned back on his heels. “Please come inside.” Han frowned and obeyed. Inside was Honodo, Hondo, and Dewlanna. Despite the situation, Han rushed to his friend. She hoisted him into her hairy arms and growled an affectionate greeting. 

 

The adults in the room were quiet while Han hugged his adoptive mother. 

“Han,” Dr. Tani said finally, “I know you don’t want to talk about this, but we all need to have a discussion.” 

“Caleb stays,” Han said instantly, “so does Dewie.” 

“Alright,” Hondo made a pair of half-hearted finger blasters at them. “Who wants food?’” 

“I want food,” Caleb said, “let’s go.” Before either of them could escape, Honodo had Caleb by his ear and Hondo by the back of his neck. “OW! Gramma! Let me go!” 

“Neither of you are escaping this conversation! Sit down.” She shoved them toward a couch. Caleb sat down, massaging his ear and pouting. Hondo glowered at his mother, and made a rude gesture. Han, in the safety of Dewlanna’s arms, glowered around the room. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Han,” the doctor rested his elbows on his knees. “What...what do you know about the Lost Prince scam?” 

“That’s how you’re opening this conversation?” Honodo rolled her eyes. Dr. Tani glowered back at her. 

“A lot,” Han chewed on his bottom lip, “Garris wanted to do it when I got older. You take a boy who could sort of be the missing prince and try to get him through the screening process. The payday is huge. We’re talking millions of credits.” 

“So you would be the prince?”

“I mean, my name is Han. I am technically and orphan. I don’t have any memories. I sorta look like those aged up pictures of the prince on the missing posters.” Han glanced around the room. “You don’t want me to do a scam, do you?” 

“It isn’t a scam,” Honodo interrupted. “We have the evidence and the reason.” She paused and waved at Dewlanna. Han look back up at her, and she smoothed down his hair with a heavy paw. 

[You are the missing prince.] Dewlanna said gruffly. Han gaped up at her. 

“No I’m not! I’m just a street rat! I’m not anybody.” Everyone else winced. 

[That is what Garris wanted you to think.]

“But I’m not! I’m just a kid. I can’t be a prince!” 

“Why not?” Dr. Tani asked. 

“Princes are supposed to be smart! I’m not smart.” 

[You are smart, Han.] To soothe the now trembling pre-teen, she pet his hair rythemically. [You are a clever and smart boy.]

“But, this is stupid! You want me to do the scam too! You’re a criminal bunch!” He pointed at them accusingly. “I won’t be a pawn again! I refuse! I won’t be someone’s pet again and I ma not going to scam all of Corellia! I won’t.” 

“Han, this isn’t a scam! I promise you,” Dr. Tani said, “we already submitted your information to the representative who screens the potential candidates. He wants to meet with you!” 

“What?” The air deflated out of the pre-teen, who slumped against his friend. 

“Han, we wanted to make sure before we told you, but you are the prince. You’re Prince Han Solo, Crown Prince to the Corellian System. It isn’t a joke. It isn’t a scam. Han, I promise you, I’m not lying.” The ten-year-old looked from him to the Jedi. Caleb looked just as thunderstruck. 

“Caleb?” 

“They aren’t lying.” 

“But.” 

“But what?” 

“But everyone knows what happened to the royal family. Everyone,” Han gestured at the room, “he killed them! He killed all of them! I don’t want to be the prince! I don’t want to be anything like that guy! If I am the prince, which I’m not, then that means.” Han leaned against Dewie, “he killed them all. Don’t you get it? I don’t want to be related to him.” 

“Han.” 

“And If I am the prince, then what? You want to control Corellia!” He jabbed a hand at Honodo, “I won’t let it happen! I won’t let you manipulate me.” 

“No one wants to manipulate you, Han. We want to help We wouldn’t have told you this if it wasn’t important and if you weren’t needed.”

“No one needs me,” Han crossed his arms and looked at the wall. 

“Han,” Hondo finally spoke. “We argue whether or not to tell you. We couldn’t decide, except that Corellia needs you.” 

“What?” He looked at the pirate. Hondo seemed old now, older than he ever had. 

“Corellia is facing a crisis, Han.”   
“What kind of crisis?” 

“One of liberty,” Hondo said, “the draft, the war, and everything else.” 

“I don’t want to be a tool.” 

“You wouldn’t, Han. You would be a figurehead, yes, but that is what Corellia needs. A prince. The lost prince returned. A symbol of hope and a leader for the future. You are so smart, don’t you understand. You came up with an idea that is going to help!” 

“People are going to riot over the drinking age! You don’t get between a Corellian and their drink!” Han looked up at Dewlanna, “right?” 

“People are rioting now,” Hondo said gently. “Do you think people would rather drink or die?” 

“I.” 

“Han, if you are the prince and you pass every single one of the tests that the commission gives you; will you take the throne?” 

Han wasn’t sure what to say. He fiddled with his hands and looked away. “I’m only ten.” 

“I know,” Tani said with deep regret. 

“We didn’t want to tell you. This is too much for any ten-year-old. Trying to give you this much, but.” Hondo rubbed his forehead. 

“But what?” 

“We heard back from Representative Uwe and he wants to meet you. We thought it best that you know now.” 

“That’s why you’re here,” Han looked up at Dewlanna. “Do you think?” 

[I do.] She woofed, petting his brown hair. 

“I want evidence,” Han announced after a while. “I don’t want there to be any doubt. I want 100% facts. No ‘maybes’ or ‘almost’s’ and if they can prove it.” Han puffed out his thin chest. “I’ll think about it.” 

“If you did take the title, you wouldn’t be alone. You would have guardians, teachers and tutors, and Dewlanna.” 

“You don’t even have to take the meeting if you don’t want to. If you want to live here and not even think about it, you can.” Hondo interrupted, “the choice is yours and we would never try and take it from you.” 

“But they need me?” Han rocked back and forth and finally looked up at Dewlanna. “Do you think I’m the prince. I mean, really? This isn’t a scam? Really?” 

[Yes.]

“Caleb?” 

“This is the first I’ve ever heard of it.” Caleb said slowly, “if you want to meet the representative then meet him. If you go through the tests and do turn out to be the prince, the choice is yours. If you want to be prince and you want me to go with you, then I’ll go with you.” 

“I’ll go. I will. What’s the worst that can happen?”


	17. Prince Solo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few tests are done. Padme is so done with everyone.

“If I do turn out to be the Prince, then who gets the credits?” Han twisted his head around to pin the pirate queen with an ugly glare. 

“You won’t need them,” Honodo answered blithely. She picked up a shirt and sniffed it. “Yuck.” With a snort, she tossed it. 

“That doesn’t answer my question. Who gets the money?” Han shuffled out of his jacket and let it drop to the floor. Beside him, Dewlanna made a noise of irritation. He glowered, but picked it up and set it on the seat. 

“Dewlanna gets a 20% cut,” the Wookie huffed in agreement. Honodo pulled a small dress from the drawers, “what do you think of this?” 

“No, who gets the rest of the money?” Han leaned against the bulkhead, still glaring at the ancient alien. “Is it you?” 

“Yes!” She lifted up a shirt that was several sizes too big. “What do you think?”

“I’m not getting gussied up just to meet some politician,” Han snapped, “why do you get the money?” 

“I am not getting the money directly,” Honodo gave up trying to find a new outfit for the eight-year-old to wear and started shoving the clothes back into the drawers. They refused to close again, prompting the woman to curse mightily. Han looked from her up to the cockpit where Caleb and a twi’lek were piloting the ship. “The money goes to the Black. I’m funding a lot of very expensive projects. I need money where I can get it.” 

“You’re making credits off of me,” Han crossed his arms, disgusted, “figures. You criminal types are all the same.” 

“I take offense to that,” Honodo gave up trying to force the drawers shut, “I am smarter than most pirate types. Caleb! How long until we reach Corellia?” 

“Two hours, Grandma,” Caleb leaned around to give a sulking Han a thumbs up. “Don’t worry, Han; we’ll be with you the entire time.”

“I’m not afraid,” Han lied and took his seat again. Honodo sat opposite of him, smiling. 

“Whatever, besides, think of the good you can do for Corellia. You will be its King.” 

“I don’t want to be the King like…him,” Han crossed his arms, “everyone knows what the last king did, and why the Jedi killed him.” 

“Are you afraid of the Jedi killing you?” Honodo asked after a moment of silence. Caleb whirled around. 

“Han?” Caleb demanded. 

“What? NO! I’m not scared of that! I don’t care about the Jedi at all! I just don’t want to be like the last king! He was a terrible person!” 

“You worry is not one you should lose sleep over, Han,” Honodo told him. “You are a young boy with many opinions, and you know much. You cannot be like the old King, because you are you. You have already shown that you care about Corellia the way a proper Corellia should. It is fine, Han. The old king might have been evil, but you are not.”

“That doesn’t mean I won’t become evil. I might still mess up. I’m only eight! I don’t know shit!” 

“You seem a little too young to be worried about things like this. Besides, you said that you weren’t even sure if you were the real prince. You might not be.” 

“I guess, but you all seem very positive about it,” Han rubbed his nose, “I don’t know for sure. I’m just keeping my options open. If we’re all wrong, then I’m going to be a pilot. If I’m am the Prince, then I’m going to be the best Prince ever, and I’m going to be pilot.” 

“Both?” Honodo exchanged a look with Dewlanna, who shrugged. 

“You bet your wrinkled butt.” 

“Please don’t mention my butt again, it isn’t polite,” the weequay crossed her legs and arms, “if I could kill Garish Shrike again, I would.” 

“Fine, you bet your bottom-credit. The point is, I’m going to be a pilot no matter what.” 

“Fine, fine, you’re going to be a pilot. That’s fine, be a pilot. You get to be a pilot. Yeesh.” 

“What’s it matter to you, you’re running the same con that Shrike would have. You’re getting the payout he wanted.”

“That might be so, but it is different. I will not be attempting to manipulate you while you deal with your new responsibilities. I am only here to drop you off and get my money.” 

“Whatever,” Han sulked beside Dewlanna, “let’s just get this over with.” 

#$#$#$

The protests didn’t die down in the days following Padme’s holo-net appearance. Emboldened by her support, the protests had grown. Corellians were joined by citizens from across the planet. The idea of an enforced draft enraging anyone.

Padme wasn’t surprised in the least when Jedi had been called out to keep the front entrance of the Senate dome safe. She doesn’t recognize the two masters and the three padawans who had taken over Senate security, she doesn’t care. 

“I have been troubled by recent events as well, my friend.” Chancellor Palpatine finally spoke as their meeting trailed to an end. “This draft proposal is inspiring shocking amounts of violence from the populace.” 

“I haven’t received any news that the protests have become violent,” Padme forced herself not to pat her stomach. The reflex to comfort her unborn child was body language anyone could identify. “Only that they are growing. My own office has fielded hundreds of calls from concerned citizens.” 

“An annoyance I am sure,” the chancellor said. 

“It is my duty,” Padme told him, “to protect the interests of my people.”

“Even at the expense of the Republic?” Chancellor Palpatine asked with the same fatherly tone he’d used when she was young. Now, it infuriated her. The same way the Jedi’s demand for interference had. 

“The Republic does not exist without its people,” she pointed out.

“I do not understand why our people would be so concerned about a draft bill,” Palpatine mused, “it will not affect them. Naboo is exempt from the draft.” 

Padme wondered if Palpatine could hear himself talk or if he was just too ingrained in his position to care about people anymore. 

“I don’t understand these recent allegations of the Mining Guild either.” 

Liar, Padme thought. He was too intelligent not to understand.

“If the materials are not mined and taken to be made into ships, how will the Jedi fight? If we have no clones, how can we protect this great nation? I fear the Separatist will overrun us, making us all into prisoners.”

“I doubt that Count Dooku desires to hold the Republic prisoner,” Padme watched the ships beyond the window. She missed the contemplative stare that the Chancellor directed at her. “It would be too expensive.” 

“Perhaps I am worrying too much, though I am sure that you might desire retribution on the count for his crimes.” He gave her neck a pointed look. Anakin’s necklace was still hanging there, and she refused to take it off. 

“Revenge,” Padme considered the possibility. She would give anything to get her revenge on those who’d murdered her husband. Execution or not, he had been murdered. Now she was facing the prospect of single parenthood in a galaxy at war. Her desire for revenge on Dooku was superseded by her frantic worry that her child would grow up in the middle of a war. 

“Revenge is not the Jedi way,” Palpatine said after a long moment. 

“I am not a Jedi,” Padme stood, “good day, Chancellor.” The man was useless where he was. What little respect she’d had for him, was gone. He had become complacent, lazy, and unwilling to rock the boat. His own interests were more important than those of the people. 

#$#$#$3

Representative Volker watched the ship’s boarding ramp extend, releasing Honodo, Dewlanna, and the small pre-teen, Han. He glanced at Uwe, who didn’t seem impressed by the ensemble.

“Representatives!” Honodo gestured broadly, grinning, “I am here to deliver your next contestant.” 

“A pirate,” Uwe examed the woman for a long second, “I’m sure you’re more interested in the money.” 

“Of course I am!” She stopped two feet away and set her hands on her hips. “This is Dewlanna; this is little Han. He is adorable, no?”

“Hi!” Han stepped from behind Dewlanna long enough to wave. The wookie patted his head and leveled an ugly glare at the two humans and their guards. 

“Hello, Han,” Representative Uwe leaned to the side, taking in the nervous ten-year-old, “I am Uwe, I will be overseeing the tests today.” 

“Great!” Han shrugged, “can we get this over with?” 

“It depends on our interview,” Uwe said, “Volker, take care of these two for a moment.” 

: I am supposed to go with him.: Dewlanna woofed.

“Not for this part,” Uwe gestured for Han, “if all goes well you can join him for the medical tests.” 

“Oh, jeez,” Han glanced up at his guardian, “okay, I can do this. I’ve got this.” He squared his shoulders and marched over, “let’s get this over with.” 

“This is fine,” Honodo pulled a flask from her pocket, “I am going to need a place to sit down. I am too old to be on my feet this long.” 

“Please,” Volker watched Uwe and Han vanish into the building and felt his hands shaking with nerves. “This way, ladies.” 

: He will not hurt Han?: The wookie asked, and Volker shook his head. 

“No, Uwe would rather eat glass than hurt a child,” the politician sighed, “come on, fellows. Our waiting room should suit you.” 

#$##

Han looked around the room; it looked like something out of a Holo he’d seen once after he’d snuck his way. A fancy room with couches, chairs, bookshelves, and no bed. A much bigger and fancier version of the living room back on the Black. 

“What do you like to drink?” The representative was tall and lanky with the usual Corellian build and coloring. His brown hair was shot with gray, and his face was wrinkled with age and grief. He didn’t look threatening, but Han knew that people could be deceiving. 

“Drink? Like beer?” 

“No,” Uwe turned his hat over in his hands, his suit looked well-worn but pressed in a meticulous, careful way that spoke of dedication to detail. “Like tea or water or soda?” 

“Um, got juice?” 

“Sure do, what kind?” 

“Um, any I guess. I’ll drink about anything.”

“Alright,” Uwe lifted a comm to his mouth, “bring up my usual tea and some juice.” 

“Snacks too?” 

“And some snacks,” Uwe waited for an affirmative and clicked his comm off. “So, who are you?” 

“Han Solo.” 

“Solo is a fairly common name on Corellia,” Uwe hadn’t taken his seat, so Han stayed standing. 

“I didn’t have a name,” Han told him, “Dewie found it for me. I didn’t know what my name was and she went through Shrike’s old records and found it.” 

“Shrike?” 

“Garris Shrike, he was the guy I ran with.” 

“The mobster?” 

“Yeah,” Han rubbed his cheek, remembering the few times that he’d run afoul of the man’s temper. 

“Do you know what happened to Shrike?” 

“He got his neck broke,” Han perked up, “Dewie snapped it. It was great.” 

Vaugley disturbed and intrigued by the information, Uwe finally took a seat. Han took the seat across the coffee table. “So, Shrike raised you?”

“Not really, I don’t remember anyone who raised me. I think there was a pretty lady who took care of me, but the next thing I knew I was a street rat and I got picked up with Shrike’s crew a few weeks later.” 

“What did you do with Shrike?” 

“I was the bait,” Han leaned back into his seat, blowing out a noisy breath, “I was the cute factor. A pretty good thief too. I picked pockets and took all the loot back to him. Dewie took care of me when I joined the crew. The other kids thought it was dumb.”

“That she adopted you?”

“Yeah, she’s the best. She’s a pilot, and I want to be a pilot as good as she is one day.”

“And you were raised on Corellia?” 

“Sure was,” Han puffed out his chest, “best place in the galaxy. I’ve traveled a lot too, but Corellia’s always my home.” 

“You’re fond of it?”

“Aren’t you?” 

“Sure,” Uwe watched the door slide open, and a creaking, tilting droid ambled through. 

“Dinner, Sir.” 

“Dinner?” Han watched the droid nearly drop the tray. He caught it just in time and set it on the floor. 

“Thank you, KayBee,” Uwe smiled fondly at the creaking droid. Han gaped as the droid made a rude gesture. “Off to repairs?” 

“Eat me, fleshbag,” Kaybee muttered and ambled from the room, creaking the entire way. Grinning, Uwe went to pick up the tray and set it on the table between himself and Han. 

“That’s a hell of a droid,” Han said, watching as the man poured him a small cup of bright pink juice. “I don’t’ recognize the model.” 

“KayBee is an old droid, a good friend,” Uwe handed Han the glass, “he refuses the get repairs.” 

“Why not?” 

“He claims that he wants to fall the same way a human does. From old age and bad temper,” Uwe considered the young man. “He is allowed to make his choice.”

“Never really met a droid like that,” Han said, “alright? What’s your next question?” 

“Tell me about Shrike, if you don’t mind.” 

Han hunched in on himself, unhappy. He considered the floor beneath his feet and shrugged. “Bad guy, he wanted to pull this con too. But this isn’t a con, from Dewie and me. They really think that I could be the prince. I mean, I don’t know. Garris wanted to wait until I was like 12.” 

“Did you like him?” 

“No,” Han muttered, “he used to hit me when he was angry. Something was always my fault.”

“I’m very sorry,” Uwe told him. Han looked up.

“What’s it matter to you? You didn’t do anything.”

“I am sorry that that is what happened to you.” 

“Beats starving, I guess.” Han avoided looking at the man and missed the soft expression. 

“Han, are you here of your own free will? Free of manipulation and coercion?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Is someone making you do this? Are you in any danger from the weequay or the wookie if you fail the tests or fail to take them?”

“NO! What the hell kind of stupid question is that? They asked me if I’d be okay to take the tests! I wasn’t even sure I wanted to, but they said I could or couldn’t. I was asked! Dewlanna isn’t like that!”

“It’s a question I have to ask. You won’t believe how many people bring in young children that they’ve pressured into this. Most children don’t make it past the interview stage, which is fine. The purpose of speaking to you away from the others is to get you to safety if you need it.”

“I trust Dewlanna!” Han exclaimed, “but not the pirate lady. You shouldn’t trust her much either. She’s crazy.” 

“So, I noticed,” Uwe said dryly, “the next part is to take a small DNA sample to compare it.” 

“Didn’t you already do that?” 

“Samples can be tampered with,” Uwe told him, “follow me, please.” Twenty minutes later, Han glowered at the nurse and rubbed his arm as he handed the fresh vial of blood to the representative. He leaned against Dewlanna as the sample went into the machine. The small clinic waited with bated breath as it whirred away. 

“Can we get food after this?” Han asked the Wookie.

: What kind?:

“Um, that little place we used to go to,” Han said, “you know that one with those really spicy fries?” 

Uwe raised an eyebrow at Volker who slid into the room a few minutes late. Before he could speak, the machine beeped. 

“Positive match,” the nurse read, and everyone stiffened. “Alright then? Off to the others?” 

Han, for the rest of the afternoon, endured a series of medical tests. They took samples of his hair, bone marrow, skin, and even more blood. All of them came back positive, which agitated the representatives and medical staff, who began to stare at Han with a mixture of awe and excitement. 

“The last test is the defining test,” Uwe said after they had taken a break. Han, leaning over his plate of spicy fries, shrugged. 

“I thought you’d already tested enough of me?” Han asked, slurping down his food. “What else is there?” 

“A bone scar,” Uwe leaned away from the mess that Han was making. “On your leg.” 

“Why would I have a scar on my leg?” 

“It was put there by doctors who served the royal house. Every child of the family got one to help identify bodies. That’s how we were able to locate the others.” Han paled. “And identify which child was missing.”

“Oh.” He swallowed and glanced to Dewlanna. “The other kids, they….they were killed.” He stabbed his food. Dewlanna pressed a paw on the top of his head, rumbling soothingly. “I guess that’s why the Jedi had to stop him. He was crazy.”

“Han.”

“We should go,” the boy said, “we’re going to be late, and then we’re going to be in trouble. Where is Honodo anyway?” 

“She told my associate that she had to take a business call,” Uwe stood, paid the tab, and guided the two back to the office building. 

34#$#$#

“You want me to what?” 

“You need to go invade a little planet!” Hondod crouched over her comm unit, grinning at Anakin Skywalker as he removed his mask and stared at her with a furiously annoyed expression. “Listen to me; it is a perfectly sound business plan. This world is already abandoned by the Republic; it is strip-mined as we speak. It is in the news that Jedi are already there, getting protesters away from the mine. Their senator is furious!” 

“You want me to play kindly liberator?” Anakin demanded, “to use their suffering to our advantage?” 

“Well, yes.” 

“Oh,” Anakin stared at her, “who is this senator and what world?” 

“Senator Dilla,” Honodo told him, “you should be able to get in contact with her. Offer her the standard package at a discount.” 

“Discount?” 

“We send troops to get rid of the Jedi, and then we hold the line. This world is drowning under their misery; it is time for Vader to be the protector!” 

“This could go wrong in so many ways.” 

“This could go right in so many ways,” Honodo pointed out, “if you’re not afraid to rock the boat.” 

“Right,” Anakin sighed, “rock the boat, stars know that I’m going to do that.” He rolled his eyes, “goodbye, Honodo.” 

“Goodbye, Anakin.” She clicked off her comm just in time to see Volker stagger through, looking unhinged. “Well?” 

“He passed,” Volker muttered, shocked, “he passed. Han Solo is the Crown Prince of Corellia.”

Ignoring the trance, Honodo snapped her fingers. “This is fantastic! When do I get my money?” The politician staggered silently out, not answering. 

#$#$#$

Han had thought that announcement might have been more dramatic. Proclaimed with the gravitas that most things like this got. Maybe a choir in the background or some trumpets blaring. From where he laid on the scanner, letting the lightwaves wash over his thighs, he could see the tense faces of the medics and nurses that stood around. A few of them were already muttering to each other with significant glances at him. 

The image the hovered above him showed a section of white, presumably his bone, and the two scratches that formed a small V. The ancient Corellian symbol for five. 

“It’s a match,” Uwe said, staring up at the image and down at Han. “Congratulations.”


	18. Drinking Age

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The drinking age is discussed. More politics. Dooku finally decides.

The closed session of the Corellian Representative House had, for the first time in history, barring any member of the Jedi Order from entering to observe. Representative Uwe knew that he would upset some of the Jedi, back on Courascant, and probably some of the ones on planet, but he didn’t care. 

This was not for Jedi eyes. This was not for the media’s eyes. This wasn’t for anyone except the representative body of Corellia. There were already a huge number of media vultures waiting beyond the building, watching for any movement and sign to indicate what the closed meeting was about. 

“How screwed are we?” Representative Volker asked. 

“Not very, if we can convince them to acknowledge the prince as King, get the drinking age raised to 65, and not get shot in the meantime.” 

“I’m not exactly thrilled with these options,” Volker glanced out the window at the swarm of media outside. “We’re screwed once the Republic hears about this.” 

“Not if we have a perfectly unified front. They spent ten hours getting all the listening devices out of the building; this had better be the best-closed session in history. Airtight.” 

“I don’t want to die,” Volker tightened his grip on his hat and stuffed it on his head, “but let’s get going.” 

“Right,” Uwe finished stuffing his work into his briefcase. “Come on; we want to meet Han before he enters the chambers. “

“Right, right. The kid is going to be freaking out.” 

“He isn’t, Han is very level headed.” 

“He’s still a kid.”

“He is,” the two men stopped just outside a door guarded by eight soldiers carrying enough weaponry to level the building. Uwe and Volker flashed their ID’s and allowed themselves to be searched before they were let into the room. 

Dewlanna looked bizarrely sleek, having been to a specialized spa to be presentable for the day. It was odd to see the usually gruff woman looking so respectable. Her rifle was strapped to her back, and she carried an entire belt of power packs and grenades. 

“Looking good, Dewlanna.” Volker gave the wookie a thumbs up. She growled her thanks and gestured to Han. He was sitting in the largest armchair looking a little shell-shocked at being scrubbed within an inch of his life. For the first time since Volker had seen him, his face wasn’t marred by dirt or smudges. His hair still stuck up at odd angles, but his clothes were very much of Corellian fashion. He looked perfect for a prince. “Ready to go, Han?” 

“No,” for the first time since he’d met the kid, Han Solo looked nervous. Even his years of being a criminal and dealing with criminals weren’t enough to keep him from being terrified of the prospect of meeting so many politicians. 

“Han,” Uwe sat down and looked at Han, drinking in the details of his face and the fact that he was alive. It had been a long time since he’d been so damn hopeful. Ever since the news of the royal families death and the subsequent search for survivors. Then the vague hope that maybe one of the children had survived the murders had only been a little sustain his life. He remembered Han as a baby, a tiny squirming bundle who had cried whenever he’d been separated from his favorite blanket. He remembered when the boy had been born. He remembered how he’d been born, the twelve-hour long labor his mother had suffered. The long near endless crying when he’d been marked with the same scar that had identified him as the prince. Han must have seen something in his eyes because the worry in his own brown eyes faded somewhat. “Whatever happens in there, I will not allow you to be hurt ever again. You don’t have anything to be afraid of. The representatives are coming from all over the Corellian System; they’re going to be seeing you for the first time. I won’t lie to you, they are going to stare, and they’re going to have questions. You don’t have anything to be afraid of, between myself and the rest of the guards.” 

“That’s not what’s freaking me out!” Han shouted, he waved his hands around. “I don’t know how to be a princes! I don’t know how to do stuff but steal! I don’t like politicians! They’re useless.” 

“You’re not wrong,” Uwe told him. 

“I’m freaked out because a few weeks ago I was some punk who ran around with Shrike! Not I’m supposed to meet a whole bunch of senators?”

“Representatives, Han.” 

“And Dewlanna is going to fight in some war that no one knows about! I gotta be a prince, and you’re actin’ as you know me! But you don’t because I’m not a baby anymore!” 

“Han,” Uwe sighed, “I was your…nanny is a word that works, manservant also does, when your…family…” 

“Got murdered by my piece of shit dad!” Han’s chest was heaving, and he was seconds away from crying. “He went crazy and killed my family, my sisters, and brothers and everyone in there is going to know that! He was crazy, and that’s why the Jedi killed him! He was evil, and they’re gonna think that I’m evil too! They won’t want me to.” Han stared at him and burst into tears as he plopped back onto the ground. 

Uwe grimaced, exchanging a glance with Volker before he nodded to Dewlanna. He sat down beside Han, crossing his legs and patting his back gently until he managed to stop crying long enough to take a deep shuddering breath and look up at him. 

“Han, you’re not a bad person. You’re a child. You can’t be held responsible for the crimes of your father or the Jedi.” He passed the sniffling boy a handkerchief. “Anyone who can think clearly isn’t going to compare you to your father.”

“But what if they do? What if they don’t like me?” 

“They may not like you; some people aren’t going to like you. Not everyone is going to like you. Not everyone likes me.” This was the closest he’d seen Han behave like a normal child. “Do you not want to be a prince?” 

“I want to be a pilot! Who the hell knows how to be a prince?” 

“Who the hell really knows how to fly. We’re mostly doing this by the seat of our pants, and freaking out the entire time. Do you want to know a secret, Han? Adults don’t know what we’re going either. Everyone in the House of Citizens is still confused how we even got there. We don’t even understand what we’re really doing. It’s normal to be frightened. I’d be worried if you weren’t.” 

“Yeah, but,” Han gulped down a few breaths. “But what if.” He fell silent. Uwe continued to pat his back carefully, and Han brushed the tears from his eyes. “You don’t think I’m like a girl, do you? Garris said that men don’t cry.” 

“Garris was an idiot, and anything he ever told you is probably false. Men cry all the time.” 

“But crying is girly.” 

“Crying is normal, Han.” Uwe gently hugged the young man. “I cried when I thought you were dead and I cried when I learned that you were alive. It’s fine and normal to cry.” 

“Okay,” Han rubbed his nose and leaned against the representative. Dewlanna made a cooing noise, and he grinned. “You’re right, Dewie. Anyone says anything means; I’ll just kick ‘em in the nuts.” 

“Please refrain from nut kicking at the moment,” Uwe stood, surprising both Han and Dewlanna when he swung the small prince into his arms. “We’ll get to that later. Right now, we only need to introduce you.” 

“I’m awesome!” Han pumped a fist in the air, “now put me down. I’m not a kid.” 

“You are a kid.” 

“I’m not a little kid,” Han clarified, “I’m awesome!” Uwe smiled gratefully at Dwlanna and Volker who ushered the young man down the hallway and to a set of large double doors. Muffled shouting and arguing could be heard through the doors, and the small group and the guards all paused. 

“Alright,” Uwe and Volker set to open the doors, glanced back at Han, “ready?” 

“Sure am!” Han puffed out his chest, and the door swung open. 

The sight beyond was overwhelming. The wide circular and domed room, with hundreds of seats, was packed with politicians. Their arguments and conversations were a dull roar, washing over the entering group as they proceeded from the side door and up the stairs to the relatively underwhelming podium at the top. 

Han stared at the assembled group, humans, twi’leks, rodians, Wookies; all representatives for different sections of Corellians. All of them coming to the first closed meeting in decades just to meet him. Only a few of them noticed him; their curiosity turned to shock as they took in the sight of Han and Uwe. Han glanced up at Uwe and Volker, who stepped up to the podium together. Volker, seemingly annoyed with the chaos, put his fingers to lips and blew a sharp whistle. It carried, cutting through the noise until it died down enough for them to speak. 

“Welcome to the 355,567th gather of the House of Citizens. Each of us assembled represents the interests of Corellian citizens and our economy. I am Representative Volker, representing the Racing District. This is Representative Uwe, representing the Palace District. We called this closed sessions for two reasons. First, we figured out a way to keep the draft from affecting Corellia if we can’t stop the draft from being voted into law.” 

Pandemonium erupted. Han covered his ears, glowering at the shouting adults until Volker whistled again, longer and even louder. When it back down he continued, “Representative Uwe will explain the second part.” He stepped away for Uwe to reach the microphone. 

“The second item is the announcement that my commission. has located and verified the identity of Prince Han Solo.” Silence followed this announcement and Han climbed onto a chair and waved at the crowd. 

“Hi!” He turned to Uwe, who seemed resigned and concerned. 

“Uwe,” a heavy-set rodian stood, “you’ve thrown out over 450 scammers. Are you positive that this young man is the prince?” 

“I’m positive. Not only the DNA tests came back positive, the blood tests, and everything else, but his left femur bears the ritual marking of the royal family. The bone scar is irrefutable proof.”

“How do we even know that you’re truly Corellian?” Another one stood, and Han felt his stomach flutter with fear. “Do you know how to fly?” 

“I’m ten!”

“Actually you’re nine and half,” Uwe muttered. Han ignored him. 

“Of course I know how to fly!” The assembled Corellians began to laugh. 

“Thank you, representatives,” Uwe’s voice silenced them. “We’re going to get the chance to meet the prince properly later, but for the moment we have something bigger to worry about. The draft is up for a vote in the Republic Senate in less than a week. There is an idea but is ridiculous, but it will help save hundreds and thousands of Corellian lives we do it.” 

“Get on with it!” Someone shouted, and Uwe exchanged a glance with Volker and took a deep breath. 

“Raise the drinking age to 65.” The silence lasted for all of three seconds before absolute pandemonium erupted. Uwe sighed and looked over at Han who seemed perfectly at home with the noise and chaos. Volker seemed a little shocked, but not surprised. Dewlanna covered her ears, glowering at the assembled politicians. 

A voice broke out of the crowd. “WHY THE HELL WOULD WE DO THAT?” 

“Because we have to!” Uwe shouted. The noise died down a little bit. “Because we’re on the verge of a crisis. We know that fact and the figures! We know what a draft will do to our population! We cannot sacrafice our people for a war we didn’t start, we have no interest in, we don’t care about, and one we’re funding and building ships for!” 

“It’s our duty!” Someone else shouted.’

“Our duty is to Corellia and in Corellia’s best interests we cannot allow this draft. Our senator told us last week that it is unlikely he’d be able to stop this bill from going through. He said it would be near impossible to keep it from being passed, but we can do something to stop it here. We aren’t powerless just because we’re representatives!” The shouting rose again, and he was drowned out. 

#$#$##$3

Senator Dilla felt her stomach twist unpleasantly as she surveyed the two Jedi who stood at the end of her office. A human, a kiffar human to be exact. Quinlan Vos, and a blue twi’lek at his side. They were staring at her and her office as if cataloging its contents. 

“What brings the Jedi to my office?” She dropped her hand to her lap and reached for the blaster she kept tucked under her desk. Attacking a Jedi at a time like this was considered near treasonous, but Dilla had committed more crimes than this to protect her planet. 

“We have heard of the disruption and chaos on your world, Senator.” The twi’lek smiled politely. Dilla narrowed her eyes. “There is a concern that the riots will injure or kill you.” 

“Those aren’t riots, Jedi. They’re protests.”

“We’re to protect you. You’re scheduled to go home and speak with the representatives of the mining guild; we’re here to escort you.” 

Prison guards. They were here to ensure that she gave into whatever the mining guild wanted. There was no way of proving this, but ever since they had tried to mind-trick Amidala, she wasn’t taking chances. 

“I don’t think that that will be necessary,” she told them, her hand closed over her blaster. “This is a planetary matter, and the Jedi have no jurisdiction over planetary trade deals. You aren’t needed.” 

“We insist.” Quillian Vos grinned, sharp and unpleasent. “we don’t need another Senator getting killed because of a few rabble-rousers.” 

“I’m not afraid of the protestors.” She answered calmly, “leave my office.” 

“We’re not!” Vos snapped, and the blue twi’lek smiled faintly.

“Of course, senators. We’ll join you at your ship.” They left a moment later, and Dille fell back in her chair, shivering. 

She needed to speak to someone. 

Senator Mako only spent time in his office if he was bored, and didn’t have anywhere else to work. He preferred to work out the Corellian consulate, which was surrounded by protestors camping out. Their banners and signs were still being waved about. Today, she found him looking awful and miserable in his own consulates kitchen as he cooked. 

“The Jedi are pressuring me,” she told him. Mako looked up from his food and back down.

“What the hell do you expect me to do about it!”

“I need help.” 

“I can’t help you!” He slammed his spoon onto the range, growing as he turned to her. “My own shit is getting crazy. I’m trying to cook enough food to feed the people out there, and I’ve got a draft to fight! I don’t have time for your problems!” 

“My problems are your problems,” Dilla growled, “if the Jedi land on my planet then we’re going under martial law. They’ll put me under house arrest, and they’ll let the mining guild do whatever they like. They want warships and to get warships they have to mine the core from my planet. I need help, Mako.” 

“I don’t!” Mako stared at her and then sighed. “I don’t know who can help. There’s…” he paused and turned to her with a critical eye. “There’s someone who might be able to help. How do you feel about committing light treason?” 

“Been there, done that.” 

 

“Fine,” Mako turned the burner off and led her up the packed halls of the consulate until they were in his office. A few protestors slept on the couches. Mako picked his way across the room until he was at his desk. He rummaged around and handed her a slip of paper. “Here. This is a line I wasn’t willing to cross. The House of Citizens is meeting right now about what to do with the draft bill. Whatever happens, they’ll handle it. I was given this in case anything really went wrong and we needed and out. I’m not,” Mako took a deep breath, “going to need it, but you do. This will put you in touch with someone who could help, depending on how high of a price you want to pay.”

“I’m willing,” Dilla took the paper and unclipped her shirt enough to stuff the paper into her bra. Mao blinked at her, too tired to even make a flirtatious comment. “What are you doing to do?” 

“Whatever the House tells me to,” Mako looked defeated for just a moment. “I’m sorry about your planet.” 

“Me too, but I’m going to make them pay.” Dilla turned on her heels and left the sleepy senator behind. 

#$#$#$

Count Dooku watched the newsfeeds usually out of boredom rather than curiosity. There wasn’t anything on the news that he hadn’t already been briefed on, but today he needed something to drown out the faint buzzing in his head when the drink wasn’t doing the trick.

He swirled the drink in his hand, staring at the holo-net with a perfectly bored expression until it the flashy logo proclaiming “BREAKING NEWS” flashed over the screen and it switched to a reporter who looked ready to vibrate out of her skin. 

“Breaking News from the Corellian sector today. Since the House of Citizens of Corellia had it’s first closed session in decades several days ago, the news of what has been discussing has yet to be released. Today, just moments ago it was announced that a perfectly unanimous vote voted to increase Corellia’s drinking age to 65!”

Dooku coughed on the drink he’d swallowed and sat up straight. The woman’s shock and glee was the only thing keeping him from running to his staff to have this verified.   
“The previous drinking age, which was 16, brings a new set of complications to the sector, which has always had a reputation for excessive drinking. Which the House of Citizens has announced a several billion credit fund to help those who owned and operated alcohol-related industries, recover their losses. As well as a fund to help those who will need help recovering from alcoholism, which has been a chronic, but often ignored problem on Corellia. Speaking for the Citizen House steps is Representative Volker.” The image shifted to a handsome Corellian standing in front of a crowd of breathless if shocked reporters. 

“I know that this may come of a shock to many, but this is not a prohibition on alcohol. Only controlling the age limit, which is the discretion of the House of Citizens. Corellia has a very high alcoholism rate, feeding into domestic violence and speeder accidents. It is our hope, that by raising the drinking age and well as offering recovery service, that Corellia will face a better and brighter future.” He pointed to another reporter. 

“Volker, how will the decision to raise the drinking age affect you?” 

“I will be drinking a great deal of tea,” Volker smiled wanly, “and offering my guests caf.” 

“Will you be throwing out your stores of alcohol?” 

“Not that drinking is prohibited for those under the age of 65; I will be disposing of my alcohol at the soonest possible opportunity.” 

“Bullshit,” Dooku turned to see an aide standing at the door. “They’re all going to keep the booze until this ban is lifted and then have a party.”

“What are you doing here? “

“Not letting you sulk.” 

“I am not sulking,” Dooku told the man, who scoffed. 

“You are sulking, I don’t know why, but you’re sulking. The Confederacy can take advantage of this chaos. The Republic votes on that bill in three days, sir. What the corellians just did was flip the entire Republic off. Lifting the drinking age to retirement age? That way they can’t conscript anyone.” 

“I am well aware of what this means,” Dooku snapped, “get to the point.” 

“The point is, we can take advantage of that. General Villa is all but hunting for Republic blood. I saw we start banking on that. Ever since we lost General Grievous, we don’t have a supreme commander.” 

Dooku stared at his drink and then at the aide. “We cannot make General Villa the supreme commander.” 

“Why not?”

“She is.”

“Is it because shes’ a woman or because she’s a twi’lek. Maybe it's both? Don’t you trust her to fight for us? Don’t you trust her to defend us?” 

“I will not be questioned!” 

“No one is above questioning!” He shouted Dooku glowered at him. “That’s why we’re fighting the Republic in the first place! Because they thought that they were above being questioned! Are you trying to make it impossible for us to fight? General Villa is the only qualified general to take over the position, and we need her to fight. We need someone who knows what to do!” 

“She is.” 

“I never took you for particularly xenophobic or sexist,” the aide spat, and Dooku finally recognized him as the one who had offered his safety services. “What makes her unqualified?” 

“It is.” Sidious wanted her dead. Sidious didn’t want to give the Separatist fight a real chance. Sidious wanted to destroy everything that Dooku wanted to build. “It is nothing. She is perfectly qualified. Have the paperwork sent in and send out a recall order.” 

“What?” Blindsided, the aide stared at him, and then around the room. “Really?” 

“You are correct,” the count straightened his shirt. “General Villa is the most qualified, and if I’m perfectly honest?” 

“Yes?” Confused, but excited, the man waited for Dooku to continue. 

“Fuck the Republic and fuck Palpatine.”


End file.
